


The Tattered Dreams of an Apostate

by Six_Lily_Petals



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Tragedy, Arranged Marriage, Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Evil Plans, M/M, Medical School, POV Alternating, Tevinter Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6405925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Six_Lily_Petals/pseuds/Six_Lily_Petals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is considered an apostate in Tevinter, like many other mages on the run from the aggressive Templars.  His life seemed to be doomed to suffering and poverty until he is presented with the opportunity to get the education he needs to work in a proper clinic.  The only catch is he has to be roommates with the spoiled son of a rich Magister, Fenris of House Vinicius.</p><p>Anders discovers that falling for the son of a Magister is more complicated than he could have imagined as politics, family, and seemingly the world, try to rip them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Suspicious Invitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emile/gifts).



> This is a fun prompt I received based off of another fun prompt I did earlier.  
> As fair warning, in this AU Hawke is raised by Gamlen, who isn't exactly the best influence for a child to be reared with integrity.  
> Also, tags my change as story develops - Enjoy!

Tevinter.  The land of opportunity.  The shining city on the hill that is the epitome of mage independence and accomplishment.  Anders pushed through the crushing crowds, foraging ahead against the flow of the masses.  All mage refugees, Apostates, rushing to have themselves auctioned off.  Anders sneered at the ignorance.  He’d been in the city longer than any of these that have fallen off the first truck they could hire to escape the Templars.  Each one holding high hopes of being apprenticed to a Magister, eventually working their way to a better life at the top. 

Anders accepted long ago that would never happen.  Although mages ruled Tevinter, Apostates would be nothing more than lower class.  He lived in a shelter that mainly catered to mutilated prostitutes that couldn’t charge enough to afford better.  The throng of people eventually thinned and Anders could actually see the filthy city streets.  Not that they were blemished with litter, quite the opposite, Apostates turned ‘servant’ kept the city in pristine condition.  A beautiful veneer for the corrupt system that ruled the land.  He looked back over his shoulder, the sun beginning to peek through the towering forest of buildings and spires. 

He shook his head in dismay, _fools._

They would sign on to be a ‘servant’ releasable once the debt to their ‘employer’ was paid.  Anders never once met a person who’d been able to pay off their debt.  Anders had been fortunate to have met with a disenchanted Altus when he first arrived in Tevinter, otherwise he would have been in a similar prison. 

Fourteen months ago the Altus had been drunk and gaming with friends in a bar.  Having freshly arrived in Tevinter, Anders was eager and excited at the thought of being in an _actual_ city.  A far cry from the small townships of the Anderfels. 

Like the country bumpkin he was, Anders had wondered through the bar wide-eyed and unknowingly making himself an easy target. 

“Oh-ho boys!  Look at this fair-haired wonder!”  Anders was suddenly surrounded by young men, near his age, but their dark skin claimed them native Tevinters.  One man with a perfect face and lavishly styled hair pressed a wide hand over Anders chest appreciatively, his thumb finding and playing with Anders’ nipple.  “Are you looking for some entertainment?  I know I am.”

The man’s friends laughed drunkenly and shoved Anders closer.  The man was incredibly handsome, winning grey eyes and a perfect beauty mark at the corner of his right eye. 

“I-I don’t want to cause any trouble.  I’m new and looking for work and…”

The group laughed again although, this time less jovially.  If darkness had a sound, this was it.  “You’re in the wrong place, blondie.”

A set of fingers pinched his ass.  Anders jumped and when he spun around to confront the culprit, he found an arm wrapped around his chest which held a staff that hummed with magic.  The crest of the staff was adorned with the twinging necks of three dragons.  One of the serpentine heads was tapped lightly against Anders’ cheek.

“You look like a good boy.  Why don’t you do as I say and come upstairs with me?”

Anders tried to protest but his words were drowned out by the gang’s enthusiastic jibs.  He was pushed and shoved to the point he was certain the men around him were all elbows.  His only relief was when he fell to the floor of a room.  The handsome man stood at the doorway and shooed away the small crowd with his gold ringed hand.  “Don’t wait up boys!  These wild Apostates tend to have endless energy and I don’t plan to waste a drop of it!”

Another wave of laughter and whistles were muted when the door shut.  The bolt sliding home formed a lump in Anders’ throat.  He scrambled forward to curl against the wall.  The mage was all confidence and power.  Sex smoldered in his eyes as the corner of his mouth crept upward under his perfect moustache.  The thin curls at the ends actually gave him a slight villainous look. 

Crippling fear washed over Anders.  He was only marginally learned in spirit healing and without a staff, he was defenseless against any mage that had an inkling about battle spells.  “I’m sorry if I-I’ve offended, p-please take what little I have.  It’s not much.”

The man stalked up to him then punched his stomach lightly with his staff.  “Not very bright are you?  You don’t have a clue as the quarter you’ve stumbled into, do you?”

Anders shook his head, wincing at the way the sharp scales of the dragons’ heads pricked through his thin clothes.  At the response, the mage rolled his eyes as though Anders were the only one in all of Thedas who didn’t know. 

“I should have thought the finer clothes and gilded _everything_ would have tipped off some backwoods peasant like yourself.”  With a practiced flourish, the mage pulled his staff away from Anders tender stomach and set it snuggly into the rack provided near the door.  “You’re in Magister territory.  Had I not picked you up, the local guard would have.  They like to keep the streets clean, you see.”

 “But I thought…”

Anders was swiftly cutoff by the man’s melodic laugh.  “What?  That you would simply totter into another country and ~ _poof_ ~ there’d be equitable treatment and a profession waiting for you on a silver platter?”  The musical laughter punctuated Anders naiveté.  Of course nothing was that easy.  “Let me offer you some free advice, you’re not likely to get it from anyone else:  Don’t attach yourself to a Magister and never accept favors.  Favors tend to never have an exact price attached to them and if owed to you, they will fall short of any services provided.”

The mage’s nimble fingers began to work deftly at flicking open all the little buttons and buckles that were a part of his expensive robes.  He took his time, meticulously placing each layer on the nearby desk instead of letting them crumple to the floor.  Once the man bared his chest, Anders lost his breath. 

Quirking a brow at the Apostate, the man queried, “You are attracted to me are you not?”

“I am.”  The words floated on an exhale, expressing his desire before his brain could register what he’d said.

The mage finished divesting himself of the clothing, threw himself on the bed and then folded his hands behind his head.  His semi-hard cock lay deliciously over his abdomen.  “Don’t worry yourself, there’s absolutely nothing the matter with you.  I’ve yet to meet anyone that has found me less than irresistible.”

Anders licked his lips at the sight.  There was no doubting the man was desirable. 

“Suck me off a bit first would you?  I am a might drunk and that will help.  Then we can move along to the fun stuff, yes?”  The man’s head fell back into the pillows as Anders crawled up on the bed and nestled himself between the mystery man’s legs. 

 

Walking along the city streets, Anders was bitter to recall that was the last time he’d slept in a proper bed.  He’d never learned the man’s name, as he left shortly after their third round night long ago, but Anders was thankful he’d had been paid for the room before leaving.  He had taken the man’s advice to heart and managed to avoid the typical traps set to take advantage of people in his position.  Through begging and taking on debt, Anders had managed to work his way into the good opinion of a woman who worked for the Department of Education.  If things went well today, he might have the chance to get the education and papers he needed to work in a proper clinic. 

The sun rose higher, brightening the way ahead.  Anders chided himself, he should have left earlier.  Breaking into a sprint, his long legs carried him adroitly to a fountain at the edge of the Gilded Quarter.  He had to hurry if he wasn’t going to be caught.  A decorative fountain was a better alternative to the polluted channel in low town.  Slipping the bundle of clothing into the clean water, he hastened to remove as much of the grime and foul smells from the hostel that he could.  His head bobbed up and down, constantly surveying his surroundings in search of the city guard.  At the first sound of footfalls, he didn’t take any chances and collected the soaking rags.  Resuming his sprint, he returned to the less savory area of town, heading straight to a bakery.  The baker’s son had recently broken an arm and Anders had healed it in exchange for the end of day waste.  Most days there wasn’t any, but Anders never complained.  Using the back door, he entered and hoped that the baker’s wife would be around.  She wasn’t. 

“It’s not the day’s end, boy.”  Each day the man’s voice grew gruffer, informing Anders that their arrangement was nearing an end. 

“I have an interview today, if I could Ser, may I use the ovens to dry my clothes?”

The large man gave a huff as he jerked a thumb towards the main ovens which were scalding hot.  As Anders spread his garments out, he made a mental note that this was his last visit to the bakery.  Just as the Altus had said, the ‘favor’ ran out quicker than a payment would have.  He checked every seam, even licking his finger and working on a few more smudges while his clothes dried out.

Once the clock struck ten, Anders donned the moist clothing and used his fingers to comb his hair and tie it back with a rubber band he’d salvaged from a dumpster.  The metal ovens were polished with great care by the baker’s own Apostate servant.  Anders checked his appearance, adjusting as best he could and grumbling a bit that he couldn’t shave properly. 

_Well, this is as good as it’s going to get.  Maker have mercy on me._

The entire journey to the education office, Anders was careful not to bump into anyone.  He couldn’t afford his second-hand attire to look any worse than it already did.  In the office he was disheartened to see that a large number of people had turned up for the same grant he wanted.  There was even a large Qunari guard at the door that scanned each person’s ID, verifying their right to be there.  Undeterred, Anders held his head high and confidently accepted his packet, holding his panic at bay until he sat at his assigned desk and began to read through the exam. 

A bell chimed to alert all prospects that the allotted time had expired.  When Anders glanced at the clock he was shocked to realized he’d been there over eight hours.  He was the last in line and noted an odd curiosity as he came closer to the front.  Each person submitted their exam with an additional envelope.  Anders flipped through the instructions to try and understand what he had missed, but found nothing.  He was mildly relieved to see that the administrator at the window was his female acquaintance. 

Anders felt his heart skip a beat when she took his papers and offered only a weak smile.  “Did I miss something?”

The woman sighed as she read through the front page of his packet, his personal information.  “Well, at least you’re a mage and not some Soporatti.  That might count for something.  As for the rest, well…”  She waved a hand absently to imply that it would take a miracle from the Maker for him to be among those chosen.

“I don’t understand.  What else could I have possibly done?  I’ve paid my fees.  I’ve accomplished the pre-requisite studies – on my own!  I have no money left.  How could I have done any better?”  Hopelessness gripped his heart like a vice.  He didn’t expect much from this world, but he at least wanted the chance to earn a living, even if it were a poor one. 

The elderly lady was not entirely unsympathetic.  She reached a hand out to pat his.  “I know hun, I know.  That’s why I didn’t bother to mention the bribe.”

“Bribe?”

“Yes.  Those envelopes the others turned in, they’re all cash bribes.”

The woman called out to Anders as he blindly walked out of the building, mentally exhausted.  He ignored her, lost in his own depression.  Three steps out of the building the and clouds crackled, then burst into a torrential downpour.  Anders glanced upward, letting the fat drops explode over his face for a few moments before he righted himself and began the long walk back to the slums of the city.  Soaked through within seconds, he didn’t rush the journey, which proved to be a safe choice.  The right shoe sloshed heavy with water for about a block before the seams gave out.  Anders didn’t even bother to curse the misfortune.  He simply removed the remnants from his foot and deposited the scraps in a nearby trashcan, afraid of receiving a ticket for littering.

The next block was accomplished with a lopsided gait until he crashed into a mass of muscle.  Having been lost to his own thoughts, Anders fell back to land on his ass.  Glaring down at him was the guard from the education office holding an oversized black umbrella.  The large horns jutting out from his head were probably the cause for the large accessory since they sprawled out past his shoulders like a bull.  The Qunari was missing an eye and had white scars that cut across his grey skin.  Clearly someone you don’t fuck with. 

“My apologies Ser.  I was clearly in the wrong.  Forgive me, Ser.”  Anders had groveled enough in this wretched country to have found the perfect apology that almost always got him out of trouble.

Tonight, it didn’t work.  He saw a hand shoot toward him and he flinched.

“Jumpy little shit aren’t you?  Get off your ass by yourself if you don’t want any help.”  He crossed his arms and waited for Anders to collect himself.  “Anders from the Anderfels right?  Drew the short straw on names huh?”

Briefly, Anders contemplated running, but decided against it, certain the man would be able to easy chase him down.  Maker’s breath, what if he sat on him?  No, best not to piss off the large Qunari who was missing a fucking eye.

“You do drugs?”

“Is this about the exam?”  Now that he wasn’t walking, the cold started to whip through his thin clothes and dig into his skin.  Shivering, he hunched as he rubbed at his arms.  “I don’t understand.”

“Just answer the questions so you can get out of this freezing piss.  You do drugs?”

“No.”  His hair had come undone and was sticking to his face.  Water dripped from his nose.

“You ever make any enemies with the Crows?  Any of the lesser gangs for protection?”

“Maker no!”

The man’s one eye landed on Anders’ bare foot, two toes poked through the tattered sock.  “You made it this long with no protection, huh?”  He then poked a finger in Anders’ chest.  “You wouldn’t lie to **_me_** would ya?”

Anders was slowly ticking off his developing symptoms from the checklist for hyperthermia.  He needed to get out of this cold rain and fast.  He shoved the man’s hand back at him.  “Of course I wouldn’t!  I don’t need protection from the helpless!  You haven’t seen the desperation in the slums as I have!  I provide needed care they wouldn’t get otherwise!”

The guard barked with laughter.  “You got fire, I’ll give ya that.”  He pulled a card from his pocket.  “My boss’ boy needs a roommate - smart, clean and not from any of the noble families.  Wants to avoid drama.  You interested, show up to that address the day before the term starts so you can move in.”

Anders looked down at the laminated card.  Plain white, simple black font, sans serif.  It had to be a joke.  When he looked up again, the hulking Qunari was gone.  A gust of wind pelted him with a fresh wave of icy rain and Anders had no choice but to make a run for his pitiful refuge three miles away.

There wasn’t heat in the building since Tevinter was usually unbearably hot, so he huddled in a corner while staring at the little card. 

_What if he didn’t get the grant?  What if this roommate turned out to be a nightmare?_

A loud crash jolted Anders from his thoughts and he heard the familiar shouting of one of the prostitutes being robbed.  Fighting broke out and Anders rubbed at his forehead, waiting for the headache to form.  Another set of voices continued their rhythmic grunts in another room, uncaring of the plight just beyond their door.  Across the hall from him was a shabby, burnt out old Templar tying off his arm to inject a dose of lyrium.

_Whoever this guy is, living with him can’t be as bad as this._


	2. Queen's Pawn Opens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders comes to grips with his new life and Fenris discovers that Anders isn't what he expected. The plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole: I like your horns, the Iron Bull.  
> Cole: But they're dragon horns, not bull horns. You could have named yourself the Iron Dragon.  
> Iron Bull: Oh, shit. That would have been better
> 
> Dragon Age Inquisition

Two weeks after the exam, Anders sought out his acquaintance in the education office.  Even after the strange encounter in the pouring rain, he was still floored when she informed him that the grant had been awarded to him.  On the way home he’d taken the wrong turn four times he was so lost to his own thoughts, blown away that things were going right for a change.   

The next month Anders had attempted to insist on some form of payment that could be monetized, if not outright coin from all of his patients.  He knew that should he be accepted into the medical program there would be associated costs such as food and texts.  However, there were still many cases that he didn’t have the heart to press as hard as he should have.  He needed the money desperately, but the definition of that word changed for him day to day with the people he met and the stories he heard.  There was hope in his future where they had none.  He simply couldn’t do it.

To reach the address, Anders had to walk by the University campus.  If he remembered his intersections correctly, the address was only two miles from the campus, blessfully close enough to not have to rely on public transit.  One less expense to worry about.  He stared at the towering buildings as he walked past.  He would be permitted within those halls.  Absentmindedly he clutched the acceptance papers in his pocket, almost hoping someone would challenge his presence in the Professions District.  Unfortunately, with it being so early of a morning, few were even walking about to notice him.

He wore the same outfit that he had to he exams.  He still looked a beggar even with the addition of his ‘new’ shoes that he’d taken as payment for repairing a ruptured eardrum, but he did at least look like a clean beggar.  Everything he owned fit nicely into an oversized cloak he’d received from another refugee when he’d fled one of many Templar raids.  It was a dark forest green color, trimmed with feathers.  It was well made and not only handy in holding all of his belongings, but it also served him well when hiding before he crossed the Tevinter border.  The coloring blended well into the foliage of the woods and the enchantment built into it dampened his magical aura, making it difficult for Templars to track him.  It was the one thing he kept that reminded him of the Anderfels.

As instructed, Anders arrived at the address on the card.  He assumed since classes began at eight the following day, the time would apply to his move in date as well.  The baby blue house had a small lawn with a brick path connecting it to the sidewalk.  Two windows stuck out from the roof line to indicate it had an upstairs.  A porch swing swayed in the gentle breeze with the tall weeds that grew from the abandoned planters.  Anders felt a tinge of trepidation, as if the empty swing were shooing him away, telling him he didn’t belong.  Standing alone, his mind exploded into a turmoil of excitement and fear.

A home, safe, private.  How long could he stay?  When would he be turned away?  Clean, running water.  Would there be a fan?  What if his roommate hated him?

The moment he thought about the reason why he was here, he found the energy to press forward. 

 _It can’t be that bad, it can’t be that bad._     

Twenty steps to the stairs.  Five steps up to the porch.  Four steps to the door.

Anders felt in his pocket and crumpled the acceptance letter with ferocity, before he rang the doorbell.  He was somewhat relieved when the door was answered by the Qunari hired muscle from before. 

“Punctual.  How’d you manage that?  Steal a watch?” 

“I’m not a thief.”  Anders stood a good six feet tall, but even he had to look up to meet the man eyes to eye. 

He barked a jovial laugh as he clapped Anders on the shoulder.  “You need to lighten up Ragamuffin.  If you’re not flexible enough, either the school or the Tiny Boss’ll snap your skinny ass in half.”

Anders ground his teeth at the insult, but understood the man meant it as advice.  “Does ‘Tiny Boss’ have a name?  He’d better not expect me to call him that.”

With an arm like an anaconda, the Qunari tugged Anders close to drag him into the dwelling. 

“No, his name is Fenris. Good kid, but tends to get in trouble sometimes.”  He released Anders and then quickly changed subjects.  “C’mon I’ll show you around.”

The home was already furnished and actually modest by Tevinter standards.  Everything was practical with little adornment or gold trim.  It was a quick tour, the downstairs had living, dining, kitchen and utility room.  Upstairs had two bedrooms and a shared bathroom.

Anders walked slowly into the smaller of the two, taking in the drastic change that was taking over his life.  A desk, a short dresser, a bed, and a closet with spare linens.  The linens were probably worth more than his entire bundle of belongings.  Shifting the makeshift sack from his shoulder, he suddenly remembered the words of the nameless Altus.

“What are the terms of my being here?  What _exactly_ is expected of me?”

The Qunari picked at his fingernails as he leaned against the doorframe.  “Nothing that’s already here belongs to you, so don’t fuck it up.  You’ll have a food allowance since you look ready to blow away.  Textbooks and clothes are on you.  Any specialty equipment you need, you can share with Tiny Boss.”

Anders chuckled.  “I’m sure he loves when you call him that.”

“Oh fuck no, so I use it all the time.  Anyway, what the Boss needs from you is to help Fenris with his coursework.  You see, he’s not a mage – smart, but can get…frustrated.”

“When am I released from this obligation?”

“Whenever the Boss says.”

“Then no.  I can’t.”  It ripped Anders in half to say it, but there was no way he was going to be indentured.

Shifting his feet, the lackey filled the doorway to block Anders escape.  “You think you’re going to just walk away from this?  Are you Blighted or something?”

“I’m not stupid.  I need, in writing, the terms of termination of our accord or I will ‘just walk away’.” 

Faster than he could blink, Anders found a set of hands fisting his shirt and lifting him off the ground.  Instinctively he let off a flash-bang burst.  It was a spell that was mostly show, typically he used it to scare off basic street thugs.  Although the spell produced a significant amount of heat, he was still held tight and brought even closer to the Qunari’s scared, stoic face.

“RELEASE ME!”

The man snorted then cocked his head to one side.  That eye.  Anders could have sworn he felt the bloody thing lick the inside of his brain searching for something.  There was no mistaking this man for a basic street thug. 

“Alright.”  He set Anders down and pulled a phone from his pocket.  Anders stood unflinching, waiting for the volley of texts to play out.  The printer on the desk behind him hummed to life and began to print. 

“There’s your written contract.  Basically, you live here and help Fenris with school until either he finishes or he marries.  Simple.”  A dark tone punctuated the last word.  There was a hint of a threat that asking for anything more wouldn’t be a bright idea.

Anders collected the small stack of papers and skimmed through them.  All the terms were spelled out just as the Qunari had said with the added provision that Anders was required to maintain his grades to keep the grant he’d earned.  Anders noted that the last page had already been signed

“Perditus Vinicius…Magister Vinicius?!  He’s your boss?”  Anders knew little in the way the Magisterium was composed but there were certain names that stood out.  House Vinicius was rich in coin and mage blood which translated to powerful. 

“That bother you?”

“No.”  Anders shook his head and found a pen to sign his name to the contract.  Racking his brain, he’d searched his memory for any horrible rumors, but could only recall that the Magister was no worse than most men of high rank. 

Anders held the contract out but was waved off.  “Nah, keep it.  Boss doesn’t need a copy.”

Of course he wouldn’t, he had little at stake in this arrangement.

The phone from earlier chimed and the Qunari answered, “Yeah?”

_“Hey, Dragon.  We found Tiny.  You want us to bring ‘im in?”_

“Naw, naw.  Text the address and I’ll collect ‘im.  I have a feeling he’ll need to be cleaned up.”

_“He hit it pretty hard last night.  He’s not going to be in a good mood when he wakes.  I’ll send the info now.”_

“Thanks Krem.” 

“Your name’s Dragon?”  Anders bent to retrieve his bundle from where he dropped it. 

“Grey skin, big ass horns, totally kick ass in a fight – yeah, the guys call me The Iron Dragon.  You should see me do flaming shots.” 

“Sooo, there’s more than just you?”  Anders fingered a protruding feather, curious just how extensive the hired muscle was for House Vinicius.

“Yeah, but I’ll probably be the only one you ever see.”  Dragon pocketed his phone and went downstairs.

Anders stood alone until it dawned on him that Dragon was leaving.  He rushed to the top of the steps, “Hey!  Is-is that it?  What do I do now?”

His deep voice answered clear and loud with little effort, “Get ready for school?  How the fuck should I know?”

At the sound of a door shutting, Anders finally exhaled, unaware he’d been so tense. 

_I can do this._

With forced confidence he walked back to the room.  _His_ room.  A large thud somewhere in the house made Anders jump nervously.  There was a click, then a low whirring droned on.  Anders felt a gentle breeze trickle through his hair.  He raised his hand to trace it to the source, a vent in the ceiling.  The air was cold.  He’d become so accustomed to the sweltering heat that he hadn’t even noticed the house had grown warmer from the rising sun.  He’d never suffer the heat again, struggling to work through dehydration.         

Kneeling by the bed, he gently set his things down.  Anders leaned forward to have his head touch the soft bedding.  It smelled like soap perfumed with crystal grace.  With a trembling hand, he pulled the blankets back and found a mattress.  A brand new mattress.  No piss stains, no vomit or blood splotches.  His hand slipped over his gapping mouth.  It was ridiculous to react this way, but all the horrific nights he’d spent sleeping in the slums slammed home all at once, wringing his lungs void of air.

He smothered a sobbing cry with two fists full of blanket.

_I’m finally doing this._

***

The ground was moving.  It shifted.  Fenris brought a hand to his forehead.  The world spun.

He rolled over from his back to try and plant his hands into the ground to keep from falling off, but it only made things worse.  Everything shifted back and forth, his stomach violently protesting his new state of consciousness. 

It felt like an eternity, but eventually he was able to open is eyes.  He blinked and rubbed his face, his skin feeling like sandpaper lit on fire. 

_Damn.  I can feel again._

A white hot pain lived under his skin, crawling to create an itch he couldn’t touch and a razor sharp pain he couldn’t escape.  As he stood, it felt as if he were wrapped in barbed wire and each movement caused the blades to slice deeper into him. 

_Fucking mages and their fucking lyrium._

The ground moved again, forcing Fenris to grab hold of the nearest thing he could.  It was a large helm.  Somewhat to his relief he finally registered that he was standing on a boat.  That at least explained why the ground swayed beneath him.  He wasn’t quite as hungover as he thought. 

“Tiny, ready to go home?”

Following the sound of the voice, Fenris saw Dragon sitting on a bench.  The man was distracted while he used a marker to draw crude genitals on a passed out stranger’s face. 

Fenris’ hand gripped the metal of the helm tighter.  “No.”

“Your _friends_ seem to have no plans.  Besides, you need to sober up for school.”

“Do I?”

Dragon shrugged as he capped the marker and returned it to his pocket.  Fenris knew this game and he’d unintentionally painted himself into a corner by passing out on a boat.  How the fuck did he get here?  With no other escape options, since swimming was certainly out of the question, Fenris groaned and made his way over to Dragon.  He knew the big bastard would stay there all day if need be, the disadvantage of having someone well paid to keep track of him.  There was nothing else that demanded The Dragon’s attention.

Fenris walked slowly, hindered by the nude or semi-nude bodies strewn over the deck.  He tried to remember the faces, but couldn’t.  Men and women alike were slumbering the morning away.  Happy.

Jealous, Fenris ‘accidently’ kicked one of them as he neared Dragon.

“Good party?”

“I suppose.  Father miss me?”  The sarcasm was thick.  Perditus never missed his son.  He was only ever fetched when there was social obligation and Fenris was required to complete the family ensemble.  Verania should have been born first.  She was the one who liked the politics.

She was the one who was a mage.

Bitterness made his teeth taste like metal.  Or perhaps Fenris had thrown up earlier and that was the source of the lingering taste.  Didn’t matter.  There was somewhere he needed to be and Dragon, as always, was ensuring he made it there.

“I would have thought you’d be a little eager to meet your roommate.”  Dragon held out a towel. 

It was only when Fenris accepted it and felt the fabric brush against him he became aware he was also naked.  Lacking any shame, he wrapped the towel around his waist.  Dragon ignored his current state, he’d Fenris in worse situations.  At least this time Fenris wasn’t so sticky that Dragon had to literally peel him off the bodies of two other people. 

“Roommate?”  Fenris took tender steps down the gangplank, Dragon was nearby to help, but knew better than to touch his bare skin unless absolutely necessary.  As gruff as he was at times, he was at least considerate about Fenris’ brandings. 

“Met the guy this morning, since _you_ weren’t there to let him in.”  In the parking lot, Dragon held the back door open.

Fenris crawled in and flopped down on the Antivan leather seats.  He curled his legs in to allow Dragon to shut the door.  The car purred as it drove smoothly over the roads.  Fenris nearly fell asleep again, but he knew that would only make him feel worse when he woke again.  He needed a distraction.

“Dragon, tell me what he’s like.”

“Tall, taller than you.  Blonde.”

“Blonde.”  Fenris turned to his back, thinking of the picture he saw weeks ago.  “Fair skin?”

“I suppose, couldn’t say for sure.  The sun was blinding as it reflected off of him.”  Fenris gave a dry chuckle, then draped an arm over his eyes to block out said sun.  “He looks like someone tried to drown him in flooded dumpster.  You may need to give your pet Apostate a bath.”

As appetizing as the thought of washing another man sounded, Fenris internally recoiled at the reminder that the man was still a mage.  One of the conditions his father had been unwavering about in allowing him to attend medical school despite his notoriously rebellious behavior.  It wasn’t as though he planned to stop, perhaps slow down, maybe.

They reached their destination sooner than Fenris had thought, Dragon alerting him by slamming on the brakes, tossing him into the floorboards.

“ **Vehendis!**   You fucking ass!”

Dragon feigned emotional injury as he opened the back passenger door.  “Hey, I thought we didn’t discuss our sex lives.” 

With an annoyed grunt, Fenris dislodged himself and stormed past Dragon to head for the house.  Two passersby made note of his state of undress.  His brands. 

“Eat shit, Altus!”  Fenris spit into the mangled garden, grabbed at his crotch through the towel. 

The Altus immediately took offense, preparing to march up the lawn until his friend pointed out the House crest on Dragon’s car.  The two men backed off and hurried about their way.  He may not be a mage, but his House had power and influence.  What did he care for the censure of these piss stains?  His future was set for him and it was to be soundly distinguished.  And boring.

Even as he thought on the prospect, Fenris rolled his eyes.

When he and Dragon passed the threshold, the bodyguard pointed to the ceiling.  “Your room is on the right.”

Fenris took the hint and trudged up the steps to find some clothes.  He heard the shower running and paused in the hallway.  He didn’t know why he felt anxious, this man was an Apostate, barely above the Soporatti class and, according to Dragon, poorer than a Chantry mouse.  It wouldn’t be hard for him to have the street urchin eating out of his hand with some well-placed coin and favors.  It wouldn’t be difficult to get on amenable terms with the mage. 

Once dressed, he rejoined Dragon in the living room.  He ran his hand over one of the arm chairs.  The fabric was new, but it wasn’t embroidered and there was no gold piping.  The wall hangings were prints, not originals.  “This is the place my father picked?”

He didn’t wait for Dragon’s answer before he was on the phone and arguing with his father’s secretary who refused to transfer him direct to his father.  Shouting into the phone didn’t change the woman’s tone who’d become accustomed to his frequent demands. 

Of course this was temporary.

Of course there was concern about parties.

_“Perhaps if you would consider what Mr. Anders would prefer…”_

Fenris hung up on her.  Fuck him and fuck her.  Damn House responsibilities.  Shoving his phone in his pocket he looked up to find a tall, thin blonde staring at him, his brows drawn in concern.  “Are you alright?”

“Fine.”  Fenris snapped at him sharper than he intended.  At least he didn’t seem taken aback by it.  “You going somewhere?”

“A used bookstore nearby, I have a few texts I need to pick up.”

Fenris pulled out his phone and scanned his contacts.  “Don’t bother, I’ll simply have the University bookstore double my order so you can have new ones instead.”

“No, thank you.”

“What?!  You can barely clothe yourself.  Don’t be a fool and accept my generosity.”  This was absurd.  How could this beggar say no?  Who says no to money?

Anders’ brows narrowed again, but this time he was decidedly angry.  “I said no.  I can handle this myself.  Go buy some furniture with it if these offend you so much.”

Avoiding any rebuttal, Anders walked out.  Fenris’ shock quickly turned to anger as he heard Dragon laughing to himself as he sat on the couch. 

He snarled at the bodyguard.  “You’re not helping.”

“Well, that’s not my job anymore is it?  You wanted to go to school, so you deal with Ragamuffin over there.  Have fun with that.  As for me…”  Dragon rose and scratched his belly as he stretched his back.  “I think I’ll find some lunch.  Good luck.”

The Iron Dragon walked down the porch steps and heard something fragile smash against a wall inside.  He grinned knowing that was definitively not his problem anymore.  He hopped into his car and watched Anders retreating form go down the sidewalk.  When he clicked his seatbelt he noticed his chest hugged the strap a little more than it used to.  This type of work wasn’t as good for staying in shape, things had been quiet recently.  He’d need to hit the gym with Krem more.

So, this man wasn’t what Fenris expected, not the easily bought company he was accustomed to.  Honestly, Anders wasn’t what any of them expected.  Dragon sighed, then pulled out his phone to hit a speed dial.    

“Boss.  It’s me.  I think this Apostate might be trouble.  He’s going to be difficult to manipulate.”

_“Then we’ll have to find his weak spot in case we need to apply pressure.  I don’t want him ruining this.”_

Dragon scratched at the stubble along his jaw.  “It’s not going to be easy.  No money, no family and just found out he won’t be bribed.  He’s got nothing to lose.”

_“But I know you.  You always manage to work wonders.”_

Dragon smiled, a small flame of excitement coursed through him.  He liked it when they spoke like this.  “I do don’t I?”  He swapped his playful tone for a business one, “Should I warn Magister Vinicius about the contract?”

_“No, he doesn’t need to know that it exists.  Delete the records.”_

“Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! I'm on Tumblr because I have an obsession.
> 
> [Sixlilypetals](http://sixlilypetals.tumblr.com/)


	3. Prophylaxis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Fenris gets pulled deeper into the plotting of his family, he incidentally drags Anders along with him.

Since that first meeting, things had not improved between Fenris and the mage.  It’d been weeks and they’d hardly said a word to each other even though they shared many of the same classes.  Anders woke early and disappeared to study for most of the day.  Fenris attended classes then immediately went to the Moonlight district until the early hours of the morning. 

Tonight Fenris was particularly self-destructive.  His brands had gone beyond uncomfortable to being intensely painful.  He sat in the corner of a dark club that he couldn’t remember the name of.  His glass was kept full so he didn’t care.  He must have left a credit card with someone.  Taking another swing of his wine, he discovered that it was becoming more difficult to have the glass meet his lips.  It wouldn’t be long before he’d be physically incapable of drinking anymore.  Unless someone were to hold the bottle for him.  He looked at the group of people around the table.  Their names escaped him, but they knew him.  Knew his money.  They were as dear to him as the empty faces on a deck of cards. 

But this is what privilege cost.  A powerful name meant disposable people to use as stepping stones for advancement.  It was a game that Fenris was taught from birth, a mold he was forged into until it was made clear he wasn’t a mage. 

Fenris flicked his wrist to catch the attention of a serving boy to have another bottle brought.  His _friends_ added to the order without a hint of consideration toward Fenris.  Typical.  Expected.  Everyone was meant to be used.  Exploited.

Except Anders. 

_‘No.’_

Fenris could taste the disgust in the way he’d said it, _no._   No one had refused him before.  His first response was to be offended, but as the days passed, Fenris became curious.  He may not engage in the grand politics of his peers, but he did enjoy puzzling people’s motives.  Figuring out why they schemed was the only interesting part of the nobility.  Motive. 

What the fuck was Anders’ motive? 

He understood his father’s reasoning for putting them together, a trial.  The only way he agreed to his father’s scheming was to be the one to choose the roommate.

_“Do hurry boy, I want Dragon to finish this business up today.”_

_Fenris sat in the car with his distracted father, flipping through the short bios on his smart phone.  The rain beat down hard on the rooftop._

_“Does it have to be a mage?”_

_“Of course it does!  I’m in the middle of brokering a deal with Kirkwall to get you a mage spouse and you are going to learn to live with one.”_

_Like a whip, the finality – the authority with which his father spoke silenced any further arguments that Fenris would have tried to use to counter.  That’s when he saw him._

_Long strawberry blonde hair tied back sloppily, but still managing to look dashing.  Rugged features, thin lips, and eyes like honey._

_“…running in circles with the demands that Hadriana puts forth.  I swear by the fucking Void that woman can’t be pleased.  Boy? Are you listening to me?”_

_“This one.”_

_Taking the phone, Magister Vinicius screwed up his face in disgust.  “If you are certain.”_

When the bottle of wine arrived, he did his best to finish as much in one go as he could, knowing his strength would fail him soon.  There were cheers of encouragement from the people near him, thinking it a game. 

As his mood darkened, his brands flared hotter.  The alcohol wasn’t numbing it as quickly tonight.  He needed to keep going, needed his escape.

Another rise of his hand.  “Shots.”

“Fenris.”

Looking up with great effort, Fenris found a lovely blonde woman standing next to him.  Her dress was the latest fashion and her sweet smile hid the ferocity of one of the most feared Magisters in the Imperium.  “Magister Tilani.”

“I’m a bit surprised to find you here.  I didn’t think you could garner an invitation to the Occularium.”

“And I thought Magisters were too busy stabbing people in the back to enjoy the night life.”  As the Magister came closer, the people at the table slowly found other business elsewhere, leaving Fenris at the woman’s mercy.

“Nothing wrong with mixing business and pleasure.”  She sat next to him, their bodies pressed together.  Hooking his chin with her thumb and finger, she brought his face close to hers.  “I understand that your father is working on a merchant deal with the Viscount of Kirkwall.”

Of course she wanted something.  Fenris rolled his eyes.  Maker forbid that she was interested in him.  She probably heard about his recent wild behavior and assumed he’d be plied by a pretty face and _-oh…ah…_ Her tongue flicked the lobe of his ear and her hot breath skimmed over his neck.  It was as if she could hear each of his nerves screaming for attention and then answered their calls lustfully.  Wet, sucking pressure from her mouth were coupled with thick sighs.  It was rare for any of his partners to be so considerate by giving him such attention.  For a moment, it was amazing.  But her body continued to press on his.  It was suffocating.  The sting of his brands coiled tighter around his lungs.

He couldn’t breathe.

Blinding pain strangled his throat, fueled by panic.  He couldn’t speak.

He shoved at her, but it was he who fell backward to lay sprawled out on the large corner booth.  Once he was free of her clutches, he was able to slosh a few words at her, “Get off me!” 

“Don’t want to play?  Pity.”  The widow gave a forced frown.

“Keep your pity for yourself mage.”  Remarkably Fenris was able to speak with reasonable clarity, more than he was able to see with.

Her tone lost all playfulness, “Fine.  I want to know what your father is up to.  The rumors of him and the Viscount are too unique and too detailed to be fabricated.”

Fenris gave a weak laugh, “Well, I am unique.”

Maevaris blew an exasperated sigh before cradling her head in her delicate hand, shaking it mournfully.  “Of that I am more aware than you know.  How can you allow yourself to be a pawn in this?  Are you aware that this sort of alliance would…”

“Magister Tilani.  A pleasure to find you here.”  A redheaded elven woman approached unnoticed, easy to do in the din of the nightclub. 

The luscious blonde leaned back further into the couch, hiding her irritation behind a mask of conviviality.  “Sweet Altus Varania.  Fresh from the Circle and already traipsing about with the big snakes?  A bit early for an Altus don’t you think?”

“I-I can handle myself, thank you.  I-it’s not your concern what, I mean, where I go.”  Fenris caught her eyes as they fell on him.  Pity.  Or was it embarrassment?  He snorted.  She should be glad he wasn’t on the floor. 

Yet.

The Magister rose like a blossoming flower in a ray of sunlight.  Her silver and blue dress sparkling wondrously.  Watching her retreat, he ignored the exchange of shallow farewells with his sister.  Fenris wondered how one person could embody such grace in everything did.  A false skin. Lovely and distracting. 

Varania sat next to him, trying feebly to get him to sit up.  She was chastising him about something.  He couldn’t focus on both and choose to keep an eye on Maevaris.  She met up with a man who wrapped his arm around her and led her from the club. 

Fenris sneered when he recognized the Altus.  “Pavus.”

“What?  Fenris please, I can’t do this on my own, you need to sit up.  How will you get home?”  Varania tapped at his face in an attempt to get him to focus on her.  “Can one of your friends take you home?”

“There are no friends here.”  He reached to the table of abandoned drinks, grabbing the nearest one.  Half of it spilled over him when as he drank laying down.  When she tried to right him again, she channeled magic to assist her.

The smell of magic made him nauseous and he flared his lyrium brands to nullify her spell.

“Fenris!  Stop it!  I’m trying to help.”  Another spark of magic flared in her hand and she raised it shoulder height, away from Fenris to keep him from snuffing it out.  Two elven women arrived promptly to the table.  “Dalish, Skinner, could you please see my brother home?”

In sync, the two elves gave curt nods and collected Fenris with a practiced ease.  The rush made his insides lurch and his mind explode behind his eyes.  Being moved was a nightmare, steadily growing worse even though he put no effort into it. 

In the parking lot as he was being poured into the back of the henchmen’s car.  It was there that he saw Tilani and Pavus having a heated discussion across the lot.  They stopped their conversation to watch Fenris being coaxed into the vehicle.  For some odd reason, his current state amused the two mages.  The last thing he remembered was the smug grin on the Altus’ face, his upturned mustache mocking him from a distance.

Constant scheming.  Fenris hated it. 

Words were impossible at this stage, but Fenris was proud that his parting gesture for the ass-clown – his fingers in the shape of a V over his mouth and his tongue protruding between them, lapping sloppily in wild circles.  The insinuation of eating out a woman had Altus Pavus contorting his face in utter disgust, much to Fenris’ pleasure, erasing that stupid smile off his face.  Slouching in the car seat, Fenris let the darkness take him.  Finally, he could rest in comfort.

 

Warm water misted over his face, slowly pulling him back to reality.  The porcelain of the tub was hard against his joints but he couldn’t bring himself to move.  His mouth was dry and his tongue stuck to his teeth.  It tasted foul and acidic.  He opened his mouth wide and let the droplets from the shower fall down his throat.

“Careful.  I don’t know how I would be able to explain your drowning to the authorities.”

Squinting his eyes under the bright bathroom lights, Fenris made out the willowy silhouette of Anders.  “You.”

“Yes, me.  Now that you’re awake, I can better examine you.”  Anders reached out his hands and Fenris felt the budding magic flowing to his hands. 

“No.”  It came as a mangled croak but it worked to halt Anders’ actions.  “No magic.  I can’t…I can’t…”

His stomach punched up through his neck and clear bile was jettisoned from his mouth and nose.  The shower washed it down the drain and Fenris was surprised there hadn’t been blood this time.  This happened frequently enough that he knew what to expect at the different levels.  He must have thrown up earlier. 

“You’re completely empty but there’s still too much alcohol in your blood.  You certain you don’t want me to do anything?  It would be much quicker.”

“I don’t care!”  His voice was coming back, but it hurt his chest to shout.

Fenris slumped further in the tub, bending his knees to have his head rest at the tub’s bottom instead leaning on the side.  He didn’t remember coming home, how he got here or how the girls managed to convince Anders to watch over him. 

“Pavus wants something, father wants something, what do you want?  What mage trickery do you have up your sleeve?”

“You’re welcome by the way.”  Anders offered him a folded washcloth which Fenris pressed against his forehead.  He inhaled deep to let the sour smell of the emberium filter through his nose.  The strength of it was powerful.  He could have sworn that he felt popping in his chest as it opened up every air sack within his lungs. 

“What have you done to this ointment?” 

“I crush the buds instead of cutting them and water them down with vinegar.  In the slums, these were hard to come by, so I had to make it last.  Spoiled wine was easy enough to find.”

“You saw patients in the slums?  How did you make any money?”

“I didn’t.  The filth and desperation, I couldn’t charge them.”  A sad tone colored Anders words.  The topic was pulling the man away to a distant, dark memory.  “Often times, I was the only option they had.  I can’t let that sort of neglect continue.”

“Then your aim in being here is to, what?  Apprentice long enough that you can open your own clinic?  That’s impossible.”

“Not in the Void.  The licensing is easier to get for that area.”  Anders speech pattern quickened.  A smile graced his lips and Fenris was surprised to find it to be contagious.  “With my magic and a solid knowledge background, I could truly help people that would be turned away by the rest of the city.”

The Void.  Fenris knew it as the River district but it seemed that the inhabitants of that area gave it a different name.  “You are foolishly optimistic.”

“And you are foolishly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”  Fenris adjusted the cloth to lay over his eyes.  The soothing balm alerted him that they were probably bloodshot.  With a feeble wave of his hand, he commanded, “Quiz me.”

“Quiz you?  On the exam?  You haven’t studied a single night since classes started, how could you possibly know anything.”

“A wager then.  If I can answer ten of your questions correctly I get to choose what you wear tomorrow to class.  I get one wrong and you can leave me here to rot.”  Fenris wasn’t sure where the challenge had come from.  Why did he feel the need to prove himself to this Apostate?

“I don’t know, a rotting elf in a bathtub is really not appealing.”

“Just get the damn text and quit wasting our time!”  His deep voice echoed in the porcelain when he shouted. 

How could one man be so infuriating?

 _He’s not afraid of you._   Laying in a tub with warm water soaking through his clothes, a washcloth over his eyes, it was more than anyone had done for him when he was in such a state.  It was unnerving to have such an unknown involved in his life, however marginally.  What did he want?  There had to be some motive.  Who could afford to be altruistic in Tevinter?

Returning, Anders sat on the closed toilet and opened the book.  “You sure you want to do this?"

“Get on with it mage.”

Anders read through a few simple questions at first but as Fenris answered them with ease, they progressively become more complicated.  The last one Fenris had to pause, visualizing the body parts, their locations and how they worked together before he gave the right answer for the last time.

“Andraste’s sagging tits!  You’re right again!”  Anders closed the book and gently tossed it on the fuzzy bathmat.  “You can’t even stand on your own and yet you nailed all the review questions.  How is that possible?”

“I have a good memory.  It used to amuse me to know more than my tutors.”

In the time they’d lived together and through the few interactions they’d had, Anders had never shown interest in anything Fenris talked about or did.  The typical topics that hinted at his family’s wealth and power – the vacations to private islands, extravagant parties – none of it interested Anders.  When he arrived back at the house from a long night out, Anders never questioned where he’d been or cared to know who he’d been with. 

For the first time, Anders showed interest.  “You made a game out of learning?”

“Yes.”  It was a fool confession, brought on by the lowered guard that the alcohol caused.  Fenris cursed himself for admitting such a personal thing to this Apostate.

Surprisingly it was Anders who blushed furiously.  As if he were the one to admit to such an unworthy action.  Academia was the toil of middle class who have no other options for social advancement.  Certainly not the hobby of a Magister’s son.  This fact didn’t matter to the enthusiastic Apostate. 

“That is amazing.”  A compliment, another first.  It seemed to take both of them off guard. 

Fenris decided to probe this new avenue, “I am also fluent in six languages.”  At Anders silence, Fenris scrambled to recover.  “It helps with learning the anatomy, look here…” 

Fenris sat up gingerly in the tub, cut the water off and leaned over the tub’s edge to open the text to the right page.  He pointed out how the root words came from different languages and gave hints as to their assigned body parts, functions and diseases.  It wasn’t that Anders was ignorant, quite the opposite to Fenris’ pleasure.  He had an empirical knowledge that was difficult to translate over to the formal structure that was expected for examinations. 

The pair poured over the book for an unknown amount of time until Fenris began to shiver. 

“Oh, Maker’s breath!  I’m sorry, here, let me help you up.”  Like a mother hen, Anders wrapped a towel around Fenris and got him to his feet. 

“I’m fine.  You needn’t hang on me like that.”  The words were out of his mouth before he could think.  A reflex that came from years of bitterness.  The man’s gentle touch hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. 

“Right.  Well, I guess I’ll give you some space.”  Anders backed into the hall, but didn’t fully retreat to his room.

Curious, Fenris started with his belt.  A flick, then he slowly freed the leather strap from the metal loop.  He wedged the button of his pants through the eyelet, not once taking his eyes from Anders.  Pulling the zipper down, he intentionally let the fly open wider than it would on its own.  Judging by his reaction, Fenris now knew that Anders was interested in men. 

Anders’ gaze stayed fixed low.  Fenris gave a teasing smirk, “You going to stand there and watch?”

Jolted from his blatant ogling, Anders stumbled back again, mumbled incoherently then disappeared to his room. 

Fenris wanted to laugh at his embarrassment but it became caught in his throat, hung up on a startling truth.  Anders hadn’t forced his magic on him.  Anders valued his knowledge.

Anders was different. 

Fenris wasn’t sure what to think about that. 

 

Anders shut his bedroom door behind him.  He fell backward against it, anxiety causing him to shake.  What in the Void had he been thinking?  Did they have a moment?  Was Fenris teasing him? 

He couldn’t deny that he liked drunk Fenris more than sober Fenris.  Sober Fenris was nothing but death glares, bragging and condescending remarks.  Despite all that, Anders couldn’t deny the elf was insatiably handsome.  A man could become enthralled to such perfect emerald eyes.  Anders lost count of the number of times he wanted to run his fingers through Fenris’ short white hair, but it was absurd.  Complete nonsense.  How could he be so drawn to someone he barely knew?

Covering his face with his hands, Anders muffled a groan.  Shaking his head, he blamed his involuntary abstinence on his indecent thoughts. 

“It’s just been awhile.  Anyone would look fuckable.”  But damn did Fenris look fuckable.  Their time in the bathroom didn’t help.  The elf was smart, admirably so.  Anders was certain he could talk to him all day, poking around his brain, curling up against his body…

Anders thrust his hands into his hair.  It had just been too long and his constant studying left him little ‘personal’ time.  Each night he crawled into his soft bed he was reminded of his mystery man from months ago.  Damn, that had been an experience. He could still remember his touch, the Tevene words whispered over his body.

Sucking in a deep breath, he craned his head to the ceiling as he hastily pushed down his pants.  Firmly grasping himself he recalled the Altus' taste, the velvety firmness of that cock in his mouth.

Longer strokes enhanced his memory, his body desperate to find an image that would bring him release.  That night had been filled with many erotic positions and seductive noises.  It all flashed before his closed eyes in a blur, each one not quite what his heated blood demanded.  Until he looked down at the floor and pictured what it would look like to have Fenris there.  Those beautiful wide elven eyes staring up at him, glazed over with lust. 

Anders came so suddenly he didn't even finish the fantasy.  Once the image of Fenris opening his mouth formed in his mind, it was over.  Crumpling to his knees he braced himself with his free hand.  He used shallow pants to catch his breath as well as to make as little noise as possible.  Maker forbid Fenris saw him like this.  A playboy like that would ridicule him until the second coming of Andraste.

Rushed to hide his activity, he cleaned up and headed downstairs having the guilty urge to show his face to allay any suspicion.

Either he had taken longer than he thought, or Fenris had been quick to change.  The cocky elf sat with his legs wide and arms draped over the large arms of the overstuffed chair.  As Anders approached, he pointed to a pile of neatly folded clothes on the coffee table.

"I won.  Put it on for me."

"Enjoy bossing around an Apostate, do you?"  Anders did feel more level headed, but Fenris' gravelly voice wasn't helping. 

“I’ll boss around anyone I choose.  Take those rags off.” 

What would it sound like to make him claw into the mattress and cry out?  To scream his name?  As Anders’ mind drifted he found that he was stripping unconsciously in the living room.  Bare-chested and hands on his pants, he suddenly looked at Fenris and could feel the warmth of his embarrassment wash over his face.  He fumbled for the shirt on the table to try and preserve some of his dignity. 

Whether it was the bright blush in his cheeks or his brief nudity, Fenris’ hooded gaze was locked on him, but Anders at least felt less exposed with a shirt on. 

Thankfully, Fenris broke the silence.  “You’re too thin.  You know that food **is** part of your stay here?”

“I eat.”  Anders looked down at his pants, wondering if he should remove then while facing Fenris or if he should turn his back.  He chose the latter.  “I just forget sometimes.”

“How do you forget?”

Anders shimmied into the new pants before whipping around to snap at him, “Not all of us are geniuses.”

Looking up from latching the belt, Anders was surprised to find that Fenris had no retort.  This time it was he who was openly staring.  Anders looked out the window to see the sunlight beginning to creep over the lawn.

“Shit.  Do I really have to go to class looking like this?” 

“Always.”  Fenris looked to be in a trance.  Pulling out his phone he took a picture of Anders and held it out to him.  “Look.”

The image was actually…flattering.  Anders noticed that he’d indeed put on some weight since he first arrived, despite his bad habits.  The button down silk shirt was a deep green with gold embroidery around the cuffs.  The black pants were snug around his waist, but acceptably roomy around his legs.  He had to admit that his ass looked fabulous in them. 

“I…I honestly thought that you were going to make me the butt of a joke.”

Indifferent, Fenris scoffed.  “I was merely curious.  Unless you would wish to…”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted Fenris.  Anders swallowed the anticipation that had built in his chest, the urge to stand closer, to touch and see how Fenris would react. 

Instead, Fenris barked at the door.  “Enter.”

An elf with short black hair from the night before opened the door wide to allow another elf to enter.  The first woman closed the door behind them, then leaned her back against it as she amused herself with a switch blade.  The second woman was a red headed elf who wore fine clothes that marked as an Altus but she had an innocent look to her face that made Anders want to coddle her. 

“Fenris, I’m pleased to see that you are still among the living.”  Her voice was soft, as if she were unaccustomed to speaking to others and needed to practice in order to find the proper volume.  “Father asked me to see how things were going between you and _him._   It appears that you are able to play nice.”

She nodded lightly to Anders, but never asked for an introduction leaving him to feel oddly on display. 

“Varania, tell father that _Anders_ is fine, should he remember who that is.”  Sitting up straight he pointed a finger at her.  “I don’t need you hovering over me.  I have him.”

Anders’ heart flipped at the possessiveness he perceived in Fenris’ tone.  Hope had brought him this far, perhaps he could hope for such a fantasy.  It was crazy but he couldn’t stop himself.

She bowed her head momentarily, then jerked it up to catch Fenris’ eyes.  “I’m not with the Circle any longer.  I may be younger, but I am still an Altus.”

Fenris sneered at the title.  “Yes and so is that douche-canoe Pavus and his witch of a Magister patron Tilani.  You know they were trying to get me to talk about our family’s alliance with Kirkwall?  You and father should concern yourselves with that plotting.  Not me and my living arrangements.”

There was a faint tremble to Varania’s voice as she continued to press the issue.  “Your living arrangements are the basis for the Kirkwall deal.  Do not forget why you are here.”

Falling back into the chair, Fenris held a hand to his head, either tired of arguing or too hung over to care.  “I understand.”

Varania turned for the door but stopped short at the coat rack.  She laced her fingers through the soft feathers of Anders’ cloak.  “Fenris,” She said with a giggle.  “Where’d you find this ridiculous thing?”

“It’s mine.”  Anders stepped forward, offended.

She covered her lips with thin fingers to calm her laugh.  “No wonder you dress him up like a doll.”

This time the bodyguard laughed with her employer as she opened the door for Varania’s exit. 

Once the door shut behind them, Anders turned to Fenris, “Kirkwall?  What is she talking about?”

“We’re late for class.”  Abruptly, Fenris stood, collected his backpack from the rack then went out the door without a another word. 

Anders was left to stew over the strange encounter for the rest of the day.  If he had had any doubts as to the clothes Fenris chose for him, the lurid stares he received all day settled them.  One particularly feisty brunette pinched his ass on her way out of their last class.  Rounding on him, she asked him for drinks later.  He declined, using the excuse of the upcoming exam for the lack of time.  She grabbed his hand and wrote her number into his palm.  Before walking out the door, she turned over her shoulder to give him a coy wink. 

Stunned, Anders stared at the empty doorway.  It wasn’t until he heard the sharp scraping of a chair that he tore his eyes away.  Fenris was the last to leave, but not without searing Anders with a dark stare. 

Alone in the classroom, Anders finally collected his things.  “Yeah, guess I’ll just walk back alone.  Not like we live together or anything.”

The long walk back to the house had Anders wondering if the previous night and that morning had even happened.  He was beginning to think that their silent distance of the past few weeks was better than being wrapped up in…whatever the fuck this was. 

By the time he reached the house, Fenris was sitting in the same seat as earlier, only this time he was finishing off a bottle of wine.  It seemed they were back to the old pattern again.  Anders walked by Fenris who didn’t spare him a glance.  He was halfway up the stairs when Fenris took a break from drinking to speak.

“It’s an arranged marriage.”  Anders backed slowly down the stairs, unsure if Fenris would give any more details.  It wasn’t until he took a seat on the couch that Fenris finished.  “My parents wanted me to live with a mage during my schooling so I would be accustomed to it by the time I was wed off to the Viscount’s heir.”

“So I’m what?  Practice?” 

Fenris responded coolly.  “That is their intent.  Welcome to the wonderful world of Tevinter Plotting.”

The small delightful fantasy that Anders concocted in his mind was fading fast.  What was he thinking, trying to get close to a Magister’s son?  A reminder that he was still on the bottom rung of society, that the upper class had their own separate world.  He still couldn’t shake the dream from his mind, despite the hard reality the Fenris had laid out. 

“So, I guess that’s why they pinned you with me.  No chance of you falling for another family’s prodigy?”  Saying it that way sounded so callous. 

“That seems to be the assumption.”

Anders played with his fingers, not sure if probing was a good idea, but doing it anyway.  “But isn’t your whole family mages?”

A hallow laugh and an empty smile.  “You honestly think they would live at home with their disappointment of a son?”  He shook his head then got up to fetch another bottle.  “I remember playing with my sister in our backyard.  I a warrior, she a mage.  We fought imaginary dragons…until the day she didn’t have to pretend.  Once her magic manifested she was taken away to the most expensive Circle to be had.”

“How old were you?” 

“I was eight, she was six.  It was then that my parents gave up.  Moved out to be closer to work they said.”  The bitterness with which he said it, added the missing words that he didn’t say.

They gave up **on me.**   They moved out **to** **get away from me.**

“I’ve only recently seen Varania again, but I can see mother’s touch in the way she talks.  Grooming her to think like a Magister.  Fucking mages.  Can’t leave things alone.”  Fenris suddenly became interested in his hand.  Lost in thought, he watched as it clenched and unclenched.  “Nothing is good enough for them.”

Anders also watched the hand.  He studied the brands that lined his bone structure then disappeared beneath his sleeves to reappear like scrollwork up his neck.  Anders wondered at the reason behind them, if Fenris had gotten the brandings in rebellion against his family’s plotting.  The only thing that he had control over. 

“You going to go meet her?”

“Sorry?”  Anders was once again caught daydreaming.

“That girl from class today.  Are you going to meet up with her?”

“No.  I told her I had to study.”

The entire exchange passed with Fenris still watching his hand.  Eventually, he gave up, closed his eyes and let his head rest against the chair’s back.  Anders took this as his dismissal.  Once again he made his way to the stairs.

“Stay.  Study here.”

“You really do enjoy bossing around others, don’t you?”  Anders gave his quip instantly but it wasn’t until he started to unpack his study materials that Fenris answered.

His voice dipped lower, tickling at Anders’ core, heating an insatiable fire.  “Only you.”

Staying was stupid.  Hoping was beyond ignorant.  Yet, Anders couldn’t stop dreaming about the tough elf and the demands placed on him by his family and society.  He wanted to stay close, to know more. 

He’d do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prophylaxis - A move that frustrates an opponent's plan or tactic.


	4. A Change in Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders finds that he cares for Fenris, Fenris meets with his finace and more Tevinter plotting

Fenris’ nights out dwindled for a bit.  Trading them for nights in the living room with Anders, drinking in silence as the mage studied.  After a month, he ceased going out completely.  That didn’t slow his drinking habit in the least.  Anders tried to question him about it but Fenris was always able to either artfully avoid the topic or blatantly refused to answer.  Anders soon came to terms with the destructive habit, thankful that at the house, Fenris never drank to the point he needed assistance.  Anders was glad for the companionship, even if it was silent and distant most of the time. 

Somehow, Anders managed to mangle his way through the first semester.  There was no doubting that Fenris would pass.  His excellent memory was put to good use and he completed all of his exams while either drunk or hungover, Fenris even found a mistake on one of the exams.  After he admitted to receiving top marks a week later, Anders made him an insanity wolf meme.  Anders laughed audibly to himself as he made it. 

“What’s so amusing?”

Anders shut the borrowed laptop as Fenris approached, which of course did nothing but make him appear even more guilty.  Fenris crossed his arms and gave Anders _that_ look, one he’d used many times that let the mage know he wasn’t playing any games.  With a sigh, Anders opened the lid and watched for Fenris’ reaction as he read aloud. 

“Soporatti attends mage dominated med school.  Corrects First Enchanter, aces finals drunk.”  Deadpan, Fenris glanced at Anders, “This supposed to be me?”

“Maybe?” 

Fenris looked back at the screen, “A wolf.”  A small hint of a smile broke through his stern lips.  He turned on Anders, snaring the arms of the chair with his own to trap Anders.  His face a breath away, their noses nearly touching.  “There are legends of wolves hunting down mages as their prey.”

A stillness took over Anders’ body.  He was afraid to move, to even breathe.  Was Fernis upset?  What was he going to do?  Anders knew what he _wanted_ him to do, but odds of that happening were so slim, he may as well wish for a seat in the Magistrate.  Fenris regarded him with hazy eyes, lids half closed. 

It was so enticing, Anders spoke his desire without thinking, “Am I to be your prey then?”

Fenris inhaled long and deep, as if memorizing his scent.  Anders considered offering his body as a willing sacrifice.  He didn’t even have to inhale deep, they were so close Anders could smell the elf’s musk.  It reminded him of a fresh spring day after a rain.  His full lips were parted, begging to the kissed.  A dark red line of wine stained the inner rim.  The heated tension was obvious and Anders wasn’t too greedy, all he wanted was a taste… 

“Not today.”  Fenris pushed himself off the chair and walked out the door.  Anders was left with his heart hammering relentlessly in his chest. 

_Fuck it, I’m so fucking stupid!_

He sprang from his chair and rushed out the door, stopping at the edge of the porch to yell into the night.  “Wait!”

The dark figure on the sidewalk paused before turning to face him.

“Fenris, please stay.”

The tall elf took one step back toward the house, Anders felt his breath catch in his lungs, his fingertips twitched with anticipation.  But then, Fenris took back his advance.  “That would not be wise.”

A warm breeze caressed Anders’ face, as if mocking the embrace he desired from another person.  Not just any person.  Fenris.  The more time they spent together, the closer he felt to him, as if he were being helplessly drawn to him and with each bit of ground he gained, Fenris pulled further away.  Despondent, Anders slouched onto the porch swing, recalling the conversation they had months ago.

_It’s an arranged marriage._

Schemes and alliances that played out on a nation sized game board.  Anders was nothing more than the decorative filigree adorning the side of board.  Noticed but once, then ignored as the rest of the game was played out by the important pieces.  Torn from his family, torn from his homeland, it came as no surprise that Anders now found himself torn from the one person he might consider more than a friend.

He curled up on the porch swing, staring blindly into the night.  He wasn’t sure if he was waiting for Fenris or was too exhausted by life’s cruelty to make his way back into the house.  Before he could decide, his heavy eyes fell shut one last time as he drifted to sleep.

 

Fenris returned hours later, painfully more sober than when he left.  As the sun brightened the colors of the world around him, he paused at the garden in front of the house had been tended to.  Elfroot, emberium, crystal grace, and ghoul’s beard were thriving in the soil that was once a graveyard for weeds.  These small economical touches that Anders brought to the home always caught his eyes.  From the herbalist garden to the precise measurements of laundry detergent, Anders wasn’t a wasteful person.  Fenris found it maddeningly endearing.

Each step up to the house was taken with great care, and had Fenris leaning heavily on the rail.  On the porch, he found Anders tall frame comically draped over the creaky swing.  He lowered his eyes with dismay. 

He knew what Anders wanted and he wanted to give it to him, but it would only make things worse.  Fenris strode forward and taking advantage, he cupped Anders jaw ever so lightly so as to not wake him.  This fool of a mage treated Fenris as no other ever had. 

A pretty face hidden behind a layer of muck.  Life would be much simpler if that were all he was, but Fenris found that his thoughts drifted to the Apostate more frequently as the days passed.  It was imprudent. 

Retreating into the house, Fenris collapsed on the couch.  In the privacy, he winced aloud at the way his brands protested the sudden change.  Being sober made them sting all the harsher with an added burning sensation. 

Fenris had long ago abandoned any hope that the pain would subside with time as his father had once promised.  Shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulled out his phone with a scowl.  He doubted his father even cared about the impairment the brands caused, only that it was another failure.

Opening an email, he stared at the screen with malice, ‘Viscount & Lady Amell are bringing Hawke by the house tomorrow.  Be here first thing in the morning.’

As if on cue, his phone rang and Fenris answered with a groan.  “Hey Dragon.  What do you want?”

_“You sound rather clear.  Does this mean I don’t have to shovel you off the floor of a night club to ensure you make breakfast?”_

“You sound out of practice.  You should know I wasn’t at a club last night.”

_“You haven’t been to one in three and half months.  Congrats on the exams by the way.”_

Fenris snickered to himself, of course Dragon would know.  The big bastard knew everything. 

“Want to give me a ride?”  _I’m not feeling well -_ He never had to say it, Dragon always understood. 

_“No problem Tiny, be right there.  You can tell me all about your goofy little Ragamuffin during the ride.”_

He gave a noise of disgust at the title, then Fenris hung up.  On his way out the door, Fenris grabbed Anders feathery cloak from the rack.  As he tucked it around the slumbering mage, all he could think of was how much he wished he’d chosen someone else.  Someone easier to part with. 

During the trip to the family’s main estate, Fenris concocted multiple nightmare scenarios in between answering Dragon’s probing questions about Anders.  He wasn’t sure why the man bothered, there was no doubt in Fenris’ mind that Dragon already knew what color the mage’s smalls were before he arrived at the house. 

“What is it you’re trying to get at?  I know what you’re doing.”

Dragon barked with laughter.  “Been around ol’ Iron Dragon too long huh?”  He twisted his head momentarily from the road to peer at Fenris.  “You having any doubts?”

“What?  About the marriage?  No.  Alliances must be made.  Our House must have its legacy.  Besides, it’ll really piss off that Pavus fucker.”

“ _Hmpf._ ”  Dragon gave the non-committal noise, then swiftly switched to a deep, serious tone.  “They’ve been poking around the estate as well.  They come around the house, you let me know.”

There was no question as to who Dragon was referring to, Tilani and Pavus had recently become more public in their alliance, stirring the great pot of Tevinter tradition.  Whether they wanted to see actual change or simply demonstrate that they were a threat, was currently unclear.  Their game was too new to be able to speculate. 

Dragon opened the passenger door for Fenris at the entrance to the massive estate that befit the rank and heritage of House Vinicius.  The mansion not only towered three stories high, but had sprawling wings that made the home seem endless.  Fenris had chosen a simple black outfit with silver piping.  The breeches hung slightly loose from his waist and the thin overcoat draped down to mid-calf.  When he walked through the main gardens he noticed the small grin of approval from his mother.  It was a rare sight, and it made Fenris’ heart hunger for more each time he saw it.   

The fleeting show of emotion was washed away as she rose from the table to greet Fenris with air kisses near his cheeks before offering him a seat and a cup of coffee. 

“Darling, this is Viscount Gamlen Amell and his wife, Lady Hadriana.”

Fenris nodded politely but what captured his attention was the burly man who sat next to him.  He had a devilish smile that was locked on his phone as the man ignored the introductions.  His black hair was charmingly disheveled and his beard was full and thick.  The cut of his clothing marked it as expensive, but the style was like the man’s hair, wild and foreign.  There was no doubting that his bulk was nothing but rippling muscles.  The man definately worked out.  Most in Tevinter would probably consider the man exotic, in a somewhat bestial way. 

“Hawke, haven’t you anything to say to your betrothed?”  Lady Hadriana attempted to make the arrangement sound more romantic than it was with her choice of words. 

“Hey, brah.”  He didn’t spare a second of his precious time to even look at Fenris. 

The nightmare was only beginning.  The only saving grace for the morning was that the conversations among the heads of House didn’t require his involvement.  Fenris let his mind slip into a void of nothingness.  All he had to do was sit, posture straight and wait to be told what to do. 

Fenris lost track of time when his attention was finally needed.  Hadriana stood as a suggestion for the group.  “I think we should give these young men a chance to get acquainted.” 

The group left as one, only Varania shot him a final glance over her shoulder.  She offered the only thing she could, a subtle shake of her head in sympathy.  

Alone, Fenris waited in silence as Hawke finally set his phone down.  “So.  You’re not a mage.  That’s got to be a punch in the dick.”

The summary of his life.  Fenris wanted to punch him in the throat and listen to him wheeze for his last breaths of air.  Instead, he chose to remain silent. 

“At least I inherit a good amount of coin when your father dies.”  He swiveled is head to take in the whole of the gardens.  “Damn fine estate too.  I think I like the weather better here than in Kirkwall.”

Again, Fenris offered nothing in return which led Hawke to take his phone back up.  He swiped the screen a few times before asking, “Oh, hey.  You’d probably know.  Which is a better app to find a decent slam piece in this city?”

Fenris was amazed to discover how much that hurt.  “No interest in touching your fiancé I see.  I suppose you have some modicum of propriety concerning this arrangement.”

The man rubbed his face then gave a shrug, as if he mentally came to a decision.  “Look, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you’re not my type.  I mean, I usually like smaller dudes, but your skin is all sorts of fucked up.  It’s seriously disgusting.  Honestly, were you dropped in the disposal a kid or what?  Besides, you don’t even have any magic to make up for any…” he used his hand to gesture at all of Fenris. “…of that.”

Propping his feet up on the table, Hawke closed himself off from Fenris by returning his full attention back to his phone.  Fenris let the words wash over him.  It had happened so many times over the course of his life, he felt as if all the cutting remarks were filling a tub and he was slowly drowning in them. 

Unwanted.  Unattractive.

For a moment, he hated Anders.  Anders who came to his life and made him hope, made him dream of a life with a companion he liked.  He’d known that his parents were going to be unbearable this morning, but for Hawke to turn out to be this sort of man - it cut deep.

A numbness took over his body.  Fenris folded his hands in his lap and waited for the others to return.  It reminded him of the years he spent as a child at home waiting for his father to come home, his mother to pick him up and hold him.  Each day when his lessons were complete he would sit perfectly still in the vestibule, eager to show them how well behaved he had been while they were gone. 

_Oh, our perfect little boy!  Oh, how we missed you.  We will never leave you again._

A fantasy that lasted for too many years.  That day never happened.  That day would never happen, not with his parents and certainly not with Hawke. 

Eventually, Magister Vinicius returned to announce their guests’ departure.  Taking his father’s order from a sly gesture of his hand, Fenris escorted Hawke through the house and to the front door.  Before climbing into the car, Hawke wrapped an arm around Fenris, then bent down to kiss him soundly on the mouth.  Fenris returned the kiss mechanically, begging to the Maker for it to come to an end. 

When Hawke pulled away, Fenris swallowed hard to keep down the bile churning in his stomach.  Hawke slid his hand lower to squeeze Fenris’ ass.  He dipped his head down by the elf’s ear.  “I got a nice glimpse of your ass as we left the gardens.”  He squeezed it again.  “You may have earned yourself a nice pity fuck.”

With a final slap to the bum, Hawke released him.  Fenris watched the car pull out, his stoic manner hiding the turmoil warring within his core. 

_Pity fuck._

“That went extraordinarily well.  I’m proud of you, boy.”  The words had Fenris’ snap his head toward his father.  “That Apostate has been a good influence on you.  You managed to not mangle this beyond all hope.  I only had to make a few additional compensations to atone for your lack of magic.”

It had started so promising, but then…atonement.  Calling Fenris a blight on the family name.  The man’s eyes stared down Fenris with intensity, expectant. 

“Yes sir.  Thank you father.”

Pleased with himself, the man pulled out his phone and hit a speed dial.  “I shall have my secretary arrange for better living arrangements, as you requested.”

“No thank you.  We’re fine.”

Someone answered and the Magister walked off as he spoke through the phone.  Scanning the vestibule, Fenris found himself alone once more.  Not knowing what else he should do, he sat down crossed legged in the center of the black and white marbled floor. 

He waited.

His father never returned. 

His mother never sought him out.

Hours later, a hand gently tapped him on the shoulder.  “Hey.  Want a ride back?”

Unthinkingly, Fenris stood and followed Dragon to his car.  Night had fallen, which helped to explain why his back ached and one of his feet had fallen asleep during his pointless waiting. 

During the trip, they didn’t speak, save for one question, “You want me to take you to a club on the way?”

_Pity fuck._

“No.  Take me back to Anders.”

As they pulled up to the house, Fenris stared at the little blue house and its budding garden.  The emberium was ready to bloom.  Tomorrow he’d call the secretary and cancel whatever arrangements his father had made.  He didn’t want to change a thing. 

When he walked through the front door, he found Anders sitting on the couch, studying.  Anders rose from his seat the instant he’d crossed the threshold, “Are you alright?  You’ve been gone all day.”  Stepping closer, Anders scrutinized his features.  “Are you ill?  Can I get you something?”

Fenris knew that Anders was accustomed to being a healer in practice, that his questioned stemmed from professional concern.  Yet, they were the kindest words he’d had all day.  “Do not stress yourself.  I am fine, just tired.  Will you be up late?”

Anders turned back to his spread of books as he ran a hand through is loose hair.  “Another couple hours at least.”

Fenris began his ascent up the stairs, “Don’t work yourself too hard and don’t forget to eat if you get hungry.”

“Always so bossy.”  Anders said it teasingly, a delightful smile crossing his lips. 

Fenris quickened his steps to reach the top.  Leaving the last step behind, he decided to turn left instead of right.  He pushed Anders’ bedroom door open wide to take in the neat little room.  Everything was in its place.  There wasn’t even a single dirty sock lying about. 

He walked to Anders’ bed and crawled under the covers.  Immediately, he was inundated with the man’s smell, something he only ever got hints of for fear of getting too close.  He twisted himself up tight in the sheets, fully enveloping himself as he pressed his face into Anders pillow. 

His father would willingly give him anything he desired, except Anders. 

Hawke’s words screamed in his head to the point they morphed into the dreaded truth he’d been taught to believe.

_Pity fuck._

_You’re fucking pitiful._

 

Dorian arrived at the chic Orlesian style café fifteen minutes late.  Maevaris had become so accustomed to his being ‘fashionably late’ that she hadn’t bothered to wait for him to place an order for the both of them. 

Before taking his seat, Dorian reached out to take her hand and place a light kiss over her knuckles.  “You are looking rather resplendent this morning, my dear.  I hope this means you have good news.”

“Some good, some bad.”  She added more cream to her coffee and stirred it while she spoke.  “I have been trying to work my way in with the Vinicius girl but her mother keeps a close watch on her.  It’s practically impossible.” 

“Then I would suggest, my lovely compatriot, that we should change tactics.  Perhaps a more blunt approach would be in order?”  Dorian helped himself to the small plate of warm pastries. 

“I was thinking a bit more subtle, actually.”  Maevaris pulled out her phone and began tapping through the menus.  “I have a little bird that told me that their son may know more than he lets on.”

“Ha-ha!  I’d have better luck seducing the Archon while slathered in nug shit!”  Dorian laughed at his ridiculous, yet accurate analogy.  He calmed his outburst as he took a sip of his coffee.  “My dear, that boy has hated me from the first moment he set eyes on me.”

“As he made quite clear that night at the club, but he’s not the one I’m talking about.”  Maevaris passed over her phone.  “This is his roommate.  I understand that they have become quite close.  They are naughty college boys after all.”

Maevaris perched her elbows on the table to rest her chin in her folded hands, waiting for Dorian’s response to her implied question.  It took a moment, but eventually Dorian was able to understand why the handsome blonde looked so familiar.  “Oh, beautiful and clever Mae.  This will be easier than either of us could have imagined.  I have personal, carnal knowledge that this lovely man is indeed a _naughty boy._ ”


	5. Setting up a Positional Play (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will Fenris' family think about his deep feelings for Anders? Worse, finding out that he acted on them.

After an hour of studying, it was evident that Anders had reached his limit.  All of the words began to blur and his casting was as sloppy as a child’s.  Checking the clock, he confirmed that he had only a few short hours left before his morning class.  Anders finally gave up and made his way to his bedroom.  Walking through the dark space, he shed every layer of clothing, promising to pick up in the morning.  Once he was down to his smalls, he sighed in relief as he crawled into bed, thankful for the comfortable mattress that gave under his weight.  When he tried to wrap himself in the covers, he was met with an odd resistance.

Twisting in the bed, he came face to face with a conked out Fenris.  Miraculously he was able to keep himself from leaping out of the bed and possibly knocking them both to the ground in the process.  The pale light of the moons coming in through the window highlighted the elf’s features to perfection.  Fenris breathed deep and slow, his mouth parted and his lips pouting outward slightly.  Anders had not been so aware until that moment how tense the man was during the day.  Even when he was drunk, there was feeling that Fenris was a spring coiled too tight and ready to snap at a moment’s notice.  Seeing him relaxed like this made Anders wonder how someone who had everything – literally from money, to looks, to brains – could possibly be stressed. 

Maker’s breath he was handsome. 

And sweet Andraste’s Knickerweasels he was naked.

And in the wrong bed. 

Shocked that it took so long to come to the realization, Anders’ confusion was only compounded when he recalled that Fenris didn’t seem drunk when he came home.  How in the Void did he mistake the two rooms?  Anders’ imagination went into full gear with fantasies of Fenris pining for him.  Of a tender first kiss to wake his paramour from slumber…

With more haste than he intended, Anders dislodged himself from the bed and retreated to the living room.  His heart pounded in his ears and his hand clutched at his chest.  Why was he at such a loss of control?  This was impossible.

Their tolerated companionship budded into respect and eventually came to admiration.  Fenris wasn’t just a pretty face that could pleasure a man, but someone who’s opinion Anders treasured.  Granted he was neck deep in Tevinter tradition, but Fenris had always been amenable to listening to other viewpoints, unlike many of the mages Anders had encountered to date.  Anders threw himself on the couch in the dark room and stared at the ceiling.  Perhaps it was Fenris’ overly observant mind that made him more inclined to entertain new ideas.  Who knows. 

All Anders knew was that he couldn’t get enough of him. 

 

The next day went as normal, minimal conversation between them.  Neither bringing up the previous night’s sleeping arrangement.  The classes that reconvened after the break focused on specific fields instead of general healing.  Currently they were taking urology. 

Anders sat with four texts fanned out in front of him on the large coffee table.  He was constantly distracted from his notes as he watched Fenris giving a rectal exam to a rubber dummy.  Anders cringed each time Fenris would read through his notes, then brutally shove most of his fist through.

After multiple tries, Fenris snapped his head up and glowered at Anders.  Anders was unsure what expression his own face held, but whatever it was, Fenris’ mood soured further.  “You got something to say?!”

As easy as the other modules had been the previous semester, Fenris actually struggled some when it came to anything hands on.  Anders had watched time and again that the man simply lacked a gentle touch.  As if having physical contact with another person were the most abhorrent thing that could happen to him.  “Perhaps, you should try and take it a bit easier?”

“It’s not me.  This damn thing doesn’t want to cooperate.”  Fenris leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Well, we have to do this on actual patients at the end of the course, you can’t give up.”  Anders had no interest in seeing Fenris getting kicked out of the program.  He’d made it clear that he wasn’t really welcome at home.  “Would you like for me to show you how I do it?”

Fenris mulled the idea over for a moment before finally agreeing.  “I’m sure it’s easy for an Apostate.”

“Is that what this is about?  You have issue with me being a mage?  You knew before I moved in!  If you had a problem with that why would you take me in?  Is that why you push me away?”

Fenris bolted upright from his chair, standing so close to Anders that their noses touched.  The pregnant pause was nerve wracking.  Anders had no idea what to expect.  Biting off a low growl, Fenris stormed off for the kitchen.  Anders let out a heavy sigh, for all his bark, Fenris had never been violent.  He did, however, tend to solve all of his problems with a bottle of wine.  Daily.

Anders heard the familiar ‘pop’ from the other room and surmised that drinking was next on Fenris’ agenda.  With a huff, he went back to his spot on the couch. 

The hour grew late and Anders rolled his spine up and back as his arms stretched high over his head.  After a great yawn, he opened his eyes and was surprised to find Fenris sitting on the chair opposite him.  His legs were spread wide and his arms were draped over the arms, a half empty bottle of wine in hand. 

“Life must come so easy for you.”  Fenris leveled his gaze at him, challenging in a manner.  He wanted Anders to contradict him, looking for an argument.

“Are you serious?  I will probably be in debt for the rest of my life.  I had to beg, literally beg, to get to where I am.”  The more he spoke, he felt the heat of anger push him into the dangerous realm of insulting his roommate.  His landlord. 

So.  He had issue with Anders being a mage?  Fuck it.

“What of you?  You were handed the world on a silver platter!   You want for nothing and you try to tell me that I have it easy?!”

“My father despises the fact that I am not a mage.  He has not let an opportunity pass to inform me that I am a constant source of disappointment.”  He raised his arm, twisting it to show the tattoos.  “He even made me get these.  They’re infused with lyrium.  He thought it would cause latent magic to surface.  It did not.” 

“Maker’s breath that must hurt.” 

“Like glass shards beneath the skin.  Even after all these years, it still hurts as freshly as the day I underwent the ritual.”

Belatedly, Anders understood the gravity of what Fenris said.  “Wait, isn’t that illegal?”

“Very.”  Fenris swallowed down another healthy serving of wine.  “Father tricked another man into doing the ritual, a Magister Denarius.  When the authorities began to ask too many questions, my father ensured that Denarius took the full blame.  He’s imprisoned somewhere.  His apprentice was only banished from the Imperium, she is currently married to the Viscount of Kirkwall.”

The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place.  “Ah, so this arranged marriage would allow her entry back into the country?”

“Yes.”  Fenris answered with venom.  “She doesn’t deserve to live.  The Court labeled her a bystander, but she knew.  She participated in the ritual with relish.  My only comfort is that ties with Hawke will have him outrank her, leaving her politically powerless.”

“But…but I thought marriages were intended to continue the blood line.”  Fenris’ eyes snapped up like a whip.  “No offense, but you and Hawke can’t have kids…right?”

“Which is just how my father wishes it.  With the improved lyrium trade we’ll gain in the alliance from Kirkwall, and Verania’s superior performance in the Circle, she will be able to marry into a family of standing and negotiate to keep _our_ family name.”  His laugh came from a dark corner of his soul, frightening Anders.  “He’ll finally be rid of me and have children worthy of his name.”

This turned unexpectedly serious.  Anders ran his hand through his long hair and was reminded that he should probably get it cut.  “I-I had no idea that Magisters plotted so thoroughly…that you’d…I’m sorry I was forced on you.”

“You were not.  I chose you from among a list my father provided.”

“Me?”

“You are not entirely displeasing.”  Fenris took a long pause to down the last of the wine.  “I may as well have someone handsome to look upon if we are to cohabitate.”

A warm blush colored Anders cheeks, reminding him how pale he was compared with the native Tevinters.  He rarely received compliments on his looks, if at all which was part of the reason his hair was unfashionably long, his clothes considered eccentric.  If there was no one to impress, he may as well dress for comfort. 

He decided to try and lighten the mood and sharply changed the subject.  “So, school.  Well, um, if I am to help you, does it make you my patient?”

“If I am to learn, you may as well examine me.”

“Sorry?”

“I prefer doing.  Perhaps I will understand it better if you were to demonstrate on me.”  Fenris tossed the wine bottle to the empty corner of the couch.  “Hence, the wine.”

“Y-you cannot be serious.”

“Do not overthink it.  Give your demonstration so that I may pass this course.”  Fenris pulled his shirt over his head and dropped trow right there in the living room. 

Ander couldn’t help but stare.  He knew that Fenris was in excellent shape, but he had no idea how he had been able to maintain his athletic physique with the schedule they had to uphold.  Honestly, he didn’t care, the man was shredded. Anders was struck breathless when his eyes landed on Fenris’ hip bones, then slid down those marvelous muscles that pointed downward to his thick manhood.  Maker’s breath, he had never wanted anything so badly in his life.  The scrolling tattoos that covered his body also ringed around his cock.  He swallowed hard, reminding himself that he needed to remain professional. 

"Damn Fenris, when do you find time to work out?"  Anders turned away at the comment, knowing what it implied.

"Boxing with Dragon growing up."  Fenris flexed his biceps and looked at them with slight displeasure.  "I haven't met up with him as often as I should."

“You didn’t have to take your shirt off.”  Anders tore his gaze away and went to Fenris’ desk to retrieve the lube and gloves. 

Fenris only shrugged.  “I’ll probably pass out after this, so I may as well be ready for bed.”

Shaking his head in an attempt to focus on the task, Anders forced his eyes to lock with Fenris’.  “One of the biggest concerns for a patient is comfort.  If they do not feel comfortable with you, they will be reluctant to be honest about their medical history which can be detrimental for their health as well as be a hindrance for any treatment you need to administer.”  Gloves in place, Anders pooled a generous dollop of lube in the palm of his hand.  “In the office, you should take advantage of the warmers for the lube, it really does make a difference.”

Fenris scoffed in irritation when Anders resorted to magic to heat his.  He smiled apologetically, “You don’t have one here, so, yes.  I’m cheating.”

When Anders took a step toward his ‘patient’, Fenris backed away.  “How can I be certain you won’t burn me?”

“I know what I’m doing, I’ve had boyfriends before.”  Anders’ cheeks reddened at the TMI that accidently slipped. 

“Have you now?”  Fenris paused as if he was going to say something more, but instead turned around to brace his hands on the edge of the table.  “Get on with it then.” 

Resisting the urge to fill his hands with Fenris’ perfectly toned ass, Anders proceeded with the practical demonstration.  “See?  Ease in at this angle.”

He heard Fenris sucking in a breath.  It was tantalizing.  Anders wanted to back his finger out, curling it as he went.  His heart beat strong in his chest, _give me that sound again.  Give it to me…_

Instead he delicately forged on, professionally swirling his finger against Fenris’ walls.  “You move it like this, checking for any bumps, until you get…here.”

“ _Nnugh…oh._ ”  Fenris’ drunken moans held no filter as he let Anders know exactly how comfortable he felt.

Coughing, Anders tried to compose himself but found it nearly impossible as his voice became shaky.  “There’s the prostate and here you’re checking for any bumps, irregularities, enlargement or tenderness.  D-does it feel tender at all?”

Fenris let his head hang low between his shoulders, fully relaxed.  “I do not know.  Touch it again.”

It was too much.  Anders couldn’t keep this up.  He quickly withdrew his hand and flicked off the glove into the trash.  “I think you have the gist of it.  I need to go…study…bed.  Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He raced up the stairs then slammed his bedroom door behind him, locking it before he flung himself on the bed.  What the fuck was he thinking?  Would he really have this much trouble with every man that walked in for an exam? 

No.  Only Fenris. 

He couldn’t allow this to happen.  He’d reminded himself countless times.  The man had family obligations, his whole life laid out before him.  Wealth, influence, power…

And loneliness.

Anders thought back over the previous semester.  No one came to visit.  Fenris always went out alone and his sister had only come by once.  As a non-mage in a Magsiter’s family, Fenris had been fully ostracized.

Regardless, what could a man of influence and status see in Anders?  Yet, he had admitted outright that he _did_ find Anders attractive, handsome even.  Handpicked him from a group of potentials. 

Anders growled into a pillow.  _Touch it again._   His hand shot down to his partial erection.  His grip tightened as the elf’s husky voice rattled in his head.  _Touch it._   Anders imagined the sweet bliss of pressing himself into the man, watching his head toss and turn as he _touched it again._   And again.  And again.  His thumb pressed relentlessly over his tip, seeking the firm resistance that only the warm, muscle bound backside of a man could offer. 

“Fenris…yes, Fenris.”  With his eyes screwed shut and the image of the naked elf burned into the back of his eyelids, Anders came hard.  His body was covered in goosebumps as the final spurts shot over himself. 

As Anders lay in his bed catching his breath, the memory of Fenris’ tight hole taunting him, he thought on how awkward the next day would be.  _Fuck this was a mistake.  I’m getting into dangerous waters._

For the first time since coming to Tevinter, Anders wasn’t afraid to drown.

The following morning, Fenris behaved as though nothing had happened, which, Anders supposed, was what actually happened.  He did in fact, provide a clinical demonstration.  Nothing more.  Why should things be different?

Because now, Anders hungered for more. 

Watching Fenris eat his cereal across the table Anders wondered what his hair felt like.  It was cut short and styled in a careless messy fashion that suited Fenris well.  It matched his attitude.  Some milk dribbled from the corner of his mouth and Anders found himself wanting to lick it, angry that Fenris napkin stole the honor.  When Fenris looked up at Anders, the mage deliberately turned his head away which made it even more obvious he had been staring.  Trying to play it off, he only listened as his roommate got up and retrieved something from the kitchen before sitting back at the table.

“Anders, are you avoiding me?”

“What?”  He snapped his attention back to Fenris.  “No, of course not.”

“Hmpf.”  Fenris didn’t sound convinced.  “This is the last banana.  Do you want it?”

Anders waved his hand, letting Fenris lay claim to the fruit.  After Fenris discarded the peel, he slowly nudged the phallic object into his mouth.  Like a moth to the flame, Anders was awestruck at the blatant innuendo.  The elf’s lips carefully wrapped around the soft fruit as it inched deeper into his mouth. 

With a satisfied chuckle, Fenris pulled it back out with a lecherous grin.  “Are you certain you don’t want it?  I wouldn’t mind _giving_ _it_ to you.”

“Yes, please.”  The words were out of his mouth before he could think. 

Fenris shoved the table to the side, the flimsy piece of furniture clattered when it hit the wall.  The elf stalked up to Anders as the dishes shattered on the floor.  His fingers filtered through Ander’s loose blonde hair before he snatched a handful to jerk the mage’s head to one side.  Instead of an expected bite or kiss on the fully exposed neck, Fenris let his nose float from the man’s shoulders up to his jaw, hot labored breaths tumbled over the sensitive skin. 

Fenris darted his tongue out to lick at the pulse point at the back of Ander’s jaw, then raised his lips to flit over Ander’s ear as he spoke.  “Beautiful mage.  One word and I will ravish you until you can’t remember your name.”

“Oh Maker, please.  I’ll do anything.”

“Anything he says.”  Fenris eased his grip and tilted Anders’ face square with his own.  “Should I desire only to taste your lips, would you agree?  Would you let my _soporati_ mouth suck and lap at yours, soiling it with my lack of magic?”

Every muscle in Anders chest tensed at the image, his heart desperately screaming for the elf to close the small gap between them, to do as he threatened.  A final smirk, then Fenris pulled back, releasing his hold completely.  “If you want me, then get on my bed and be prepared to do as I say.”

Without hesitation Anders rushed to the bedroom.  He didn’t want time to second guess anything, he’d fantasized about this to the point he half believed he this was all a scene from the Fade. 

Fenris came at a leisurely pace to stand in the doorway, “Remove your clothing.” 

Shirt and sleep pants were doffed and tossed to the floor.  Fenris was slower with his clothes.  Walking like a lazy cat, he approached Anders, only fully removing his shirt when their toes met.  “Show me what you did to yourself last night.”

Anders wanted to rebuke, to ask for clarification, maybe even to argue, but his cock was throbbing painfully and won the battle over his outraged mind.  How Fenris knew that he’d masturbated last night, he didn’t care.  He palmed his erection.  There was an electric shock that surged through his lungs as he saw the enjoyment Fenris got from watching him.  He squeezed on the upstroke to let his precum drip out and over the tip.  His balls tightened reflexively when Fenris licked his lips at the sight, his eyes thirsty. 

“Don’t stop.  I promise to take care of you later.”  At last, the elf removed his lounge pants.  His cock swayed thick and hard.  Anders jammed his own into his fist, moaning with desperate need.  “Spread your legs for me.”

Anders moved further back on the bed at Fenris’ hand gesture and bent his knees, all the while not missing a single stroke.  His head sunk into the pillows wrapped in Antivan cotton, the embroidery most likely done by hand.  The bedspread was of similar quality and the satisfying thought of Fenris’ cunt of a father paying exorbitantly to have them cleaned after this romp put a smile on his face. 

On hands and knees, Fenris settled himself between Anders’ legs.  Anders flinch slightly, “I, uh, are you sure you know what you’re doing?  I mean, you’ve practiced right?”

The only answer he received was a sinful grin that crept up the man’s face.  Fenris reached over to the nightstand to retrieve a bottle of lube that had been sitting in a warmer.  He drizzled some over Anders’ dick, a few relaxing strands on his balls, then a generous amount on his own two fingers. 

Anders breath was forced from his lungs when Fenris first wedged his fingers into the crease of his ass, holding firmly against his entrance.  It had been awhile since he’d been on the receiving end and his whole body arched at the flood of lust that coursed through him.  Both of his hands clawed at the bedding and his head pressed back into the pillow. 

As an act of mercy, Fenris wasted no time in easing his fingers into the mage.  Anders’ thighs quivered and his stomach clenched while Fenris prepared him.  Fenris chuckled at the ready welcome.  “How wanton your body is.  We should have done this course sooner.”

The heat and pressure as Fenris filled him with his fingers had Anders’ eyes rolling to the back of his head.  He pushed his rear against Fenris’ hand, demanding more.  “Andraste’s flaming sword, if you don’t get in me now, I’ll strap you down and fuck **you** blind.”

Fenris withdrew his hand to stroke his cock.  “A tempting offer, but not tonight.  I have plans for you.  Get on top of me.”

Switching places, Fenris propped his torso up as Anders resituated himself over his waist.  Taking hold of Fenris arousal, he aligned their bodies to join.  He lowered himself slowly, his body eagerly absorbing the elf’s pretty cock.  Once he sat balls deep, he rested, catching his breath as body adjusted. 

“Maker’s breath you feel amazing.”  Anders head lolled as he enjoyed the fullness, his hands ghosting over Fenris’ pert chest.  “You are fucking amazing.”

“Few have ever said that.”  To avoid any debate on the matter, Fenris bucked his hips up making Anders cry out.  “Yes, let me know how you like that _soporati_ cock, mage.”

This set Anders rocking, rolling his hips so his plump ass fucked Fenris, squeezing and relaxing as if he were trying to milk the cum out of his partner.  They had found a delicious rhythm which surprised Anders when Fenris stopped it by grabbing his thighs and forcing himself incredibly deep, then held there.

Anders opened his eyes as he fell from the sex laden trance and was met with a concerned Fenris.  “You aright?  I haven’t hurt you have I?”

“No.  I wonder… _does_ it bother you I am not a mage?”

“Flames no!  To be honest, I think of you when I-I touch myself.  You’re incredibly smart and gorgeous…and holy fuck, your voice wrecks me.”

Fenris reached up and clutched the hair at the back of Anders head and like before, he had expected a tease along his neck.  Instead, Fenris kissed him, open mouthed and full-bodied.  Anders breathed deep and took it all in, Fenris’ musk, the feather soft feel of his hair, the toned body within his hands.  Fenris gave a final light kiss that barely touched then backed off. 

“Perfect.”  Anders meant more than the kiss, more than this morning.  Fenris was perfection.

“I want to hear you.  Let me know how well I please you.”  He touched Anders chest so he sat up straight then adjusted himself a bit.

Anders watched in amazement, then complete disbelief as Fenris curled himself, pulling on Anders’ hips to have his mouth reach his rock hard member.  “Oh shit, _oh fucking shit, shit, shit!_ ” 

He could only take about half of him, but Anders did not give a single fuck.  His mind and body were utterly destroyed.  He leaned back, bracing his hands on Fenris’ knees to have his prick inch a little deeper in the elf’s mouth.  He moved at the rough nudging from Fenris’ hands and realized if he did it just right, he could wholly fuck his roommate, undulated between riding him and fucking his face.  He also didn’t need to make a point at being vocal either.  He mewled and moaned like a virgin in the hands of a seasoned escort.  “More, fuck yes.  Fucking shit, _Holy Andraste!  So good, so, so good.”_  

Anders couldn’t give any warning, he’d been enjoying himself too much and he exploded forcefully into Fenris’ mouth.  The last few shots, Fenris pumped out of him, smiling as they streamed over his chest.  He quickly bent and twisted his legs so he sat on his knees, never pulling out of Anders’ fine ass.  Anders fell back on the bed while Fenris took up the classic missionary position.  Fenris undulated his hips, even and steady.  Not the typical frantic fuck Anders had become accustomed to with others.

“Yes.  Like that.  Don’t stop.”  This time it was Anders who pulled Fenris close to capture his lips with his.  He could taste his spend, feel the stickiness as their chests collided, but he didn’t care.  “Don’t stop, fucking cum in me, claim me.”

As if on command, Fenris growled low and feral into Anders mouth as he spilled himself inside.  He kept thrusting, pushing some of his seed deeper, squirting the rest out the sides. 

Fenris buried his head in Anders’ neck, cupping the mage’s cheek to hold him close.  Feather light kisses were laid over Anders collarbone.  “Vehendis, you feel incredible.”

Anders rubbed his hands up and down Fenris’ back.  He chuckled at the compliment.  “I should, it’s been a while.”  Anders tugged at Fenris’ chin to place a sweet kiss on his nose.  “Do you think you’re ready for the exam?”

Fenris wrestled Anders to his back, towering over him.  “I don’t believe so.  I think another demonstration would be prudent.”

 

They never talked about what they were doing or how insanely risky and stupid it was.  Each day they were drawn closer and closer together.  When they were in public, they behaved as strangers even when they weren’t on campus.

_Dragon will have people watching me._

 

Each one trying to pretend that they lived in a protective bubble, separate from the realities of the world.  It became easy to believe the lie that they could find a way through this.  Within the safety of the house, they were constantly touching.  They shared the couch when studying.  They shared a bed at night, often passionately, but it always ended in them being curled against each other.  Being with Fenris, Anders understood why people called it ‘making love’.  As much as he rationally knew this relationship wasn’t wise, Anders still devoted himself to it.  He gave everything his heart could offer to Fenris and the elf returned his affections in kind.  Not in words, but with squeezes of the hand.  Small kisses on the neck.  Fluffing Anders’ hair. 

Smiling at Anders each morning as they lay in bed before fully waking.  It was the perfect fairy tale.

Fenris even allowed Anders to experiment with creams to try and ease Fenris’ angry brands, finding one that had some effectiveness.  The latest magebane cream Anders concocted.  Fenris frequently asked Anders for assistance in applying the mixture. 

Anders hands rolled over the muscles in the elf’s back for the third time, slicking it with balm.  “Does it really bother you this frequently throughout the day?”

“Most days.”  Fenris stepped backward and craned his head over his shoulder.  “Or I could be using it as an excuse to have you service me.”

They met in a series of soft kisses, Fenris turning to have their hips meet.  Anders’ adored how Fenris would card his hair and run his fingers over the stubble of his jaw.  There was something about the reverence of his touch that made Anders want to do everything he could to please him. 

Anders lowered to his knees, letting his balm covered hands slide over Fenris’ chest.  From the floor, he quirked an eye up at Fenris, “You know this stuff tastes terrible.”

“Then I suggest you get creative.” 

Deftly using his mouth, Anders managed to get into Fenris’ breeches.  Working through his smalls proved to be the most difficult.  He even found himself taking longer just to hear Fenris laughing at his failed attempts.  With his mind preoccupied with smiles and filling his mouth with engorging flesh, Anders failed to notice when they were no longer alone. 

“Tiny.  You forget how to use a phone?”  Dragon filled the doorway.

Anders scrambled to his feet, red with embarrassment and wiping at his mouth.  Fenris, however, righted himself with no more concern than someone getting dressed in the morning.  “I have not.  Not everyone who contacts me is worth responding to.”

Dragon folded his arms over his chest.  “You’ve been ignoring Hawke.” 

“As you say.”

The conversation was horribly uncomfortable.  That particular subject hadn’t been mentioned in weeks and now it sent chills up Anders spine.  He wanted to flee the room, but there was no budging past the hulking Qunari. 

“We need to go to the boss’ office.  Now.”

“He doesn’t trust me to come on my own?!”  Fenris’ tone was sharp with malice.

“No.”

Fenris had mentioned that he’d grown up with The Dragon as his bodyguard for as long as he could remember.  Knowing someone that long gave one an insight into unspoken explanations.  Although Anders couldn’t understand it, he knew that Fenris read more into the single word answer.  His long pointed ears drooped and his eyes fell to the floor. 

Instinctively, Anders came to his side, taking his hand.  “You alright?”

Collecting himself with a lofty shake of his head, Fenris dismissed the concern.  “I’ll be fine.”  He cupped Anders cheek and gave him a searing kiss goodbye. 

_We’ll be fine._

Anders wanted to reassure his lover, but they both knew that this was the beginning of the end.  With a heavy heart, Anders watched Fenris follow Dragon to the car and pull out.  He hadn’t been given much time to think on what the immediate future held for him.  The doorbell rang under the elegant finger of a man Anders thought he’d never see again.

“Speechless I see.  Well, who wouldn’t be, to find such magnificence on their very step!”  The newcomer gave a flourish of his cloak as he spoke, the new fashion of the elite among the Altus’.  Gliding past Anders, the man from the Tavern so long ago let himself into the living room.  “I see that you’ve done well for yourself.  Disregarded my advice it seems.”  The man _tsk_ ed.

“I’m not indentured if that’s what you mean to imply.”

“Ah, a bit of the fresh coat has worn off it would seem.”  The Altus glanced at a chair, decided not to sit and gave Anders a warm smile. “Not so timid as our first meeting.”

“You barge in here and start off with tossing insults at me.  Just who do you think you are?”

“Ah, yes.  I believe we skipped that part last time.”  He gave a slight bow of his head.  “Dorian of House Pavus.”

“Dorian?”  This was the man that Fenris distrusted so much?  The day was turning out to be one disaster after another. 

“Heard of me have you?”

“I think you should leave.”  Anders stepped to the side to allow the man an easy exit.

“That’s rather rude.  I would have thought being in country this long would have taught you some manners.”  Dorian advanced, but it was clear he had no intention of leaving

Anders primed some magic in the palm of his hand.  “I’ll ask you one last time.  Leave.”

Dorian’s eyes flickered to the primed hand, then narrowed harshly on Anders.  “Not until I get what I came for.”

***

Fenris walked through the dark halls of the Magisterium.  He’d puffed out his chest and held his head high, but there was no strength behind the aggressive stature.  Yet in this place of dark deals and backstabbing, perception was reality.

Dragon opened the massive door to Magister Vinicius’ office, closing it behind him as he crossed the threshold.  Despite the wall of floor to ceiling windows, the room was dark.  The sitting area off to the right was lit by a single lamp on a side table.  Perditus sat behind his desk, scanning through papers while an assistant waited with a clipboard at his side.

The girl looked up and was the first to notice Fenris entering the room, “Ser, your son has arrived.”

Lacking any interest, the Magister corrected her in a clipped tone. 

“Do not presume to know my priorities.” 

“Apologies.”  She took another step back from the desk in submission.

Fenris stood with his back ramrod straight as his father made him wait a half hour before passing off a litany of tasks for the assistant.  She scurried out, not wishing to be part of the growing tension in the room. 

“Have you forgotten our arrangement?”  Perditus rose and walked to the windows that overlooked the sprawling city.  It wasn’t hard to imagine the man felt that all he saw belonged to him.  “I have had to petition for a special license from the Archon to make this deal happen.  It will cost a significant percentage of our lyrium trade.  Explain to me why you feel that you need to jeopardize this?”

“I have not risked anything with my actions.  Hawke has no interest in me.  What does he care that I wish to ignore him?”

Suddenly, the mask of calm fell from his father’s face.  He turned sharply and shouted across the room, “Appearances you fucking idiot!  We need some layer of believability to have this work and not be challenged by other Houses.  Angering Hawke is not the best way to solidify a pre-existing relationship.”

Fenris swallowed hard, searching for a way out, a way to keep Anders.  “Fine, but I will take on a lover.  Discreetly.”

“A lover?  Who put this sort of idea in your head?  You reading Southern novels?”  He laughed mockingly as he stalked up to Fenris.  He grasped Fenris’ jaw harshly, intentionally pressing down hard on his brands.  “You have no magic, you’re scarred beyond recognition.  Who could possibly love you?”

“Scars you gave me!”

“WATCH YOUR TONE!”  Reflexively, Fenris shrunk under the man’s volume and hated himself for it.  “You asked for those.  It was a wasted investment as I had to pay off several officials to ensure the link to blood magic didn’t come back on our House.”

Perditus snatched Fenris by the hair and jerked him downward.  “You should be thankful I didn’t abandon you on the boarder following that incident, you fucking whelp.  Is that damn Apostate putting these ideas in your head?”

“No!”  Fenris shrieked, trying to sound less protective than he felt.

The Magister flung Fenris loose from his grip with such force Fenris stumbled to the floor.  Fenris has always feared his father, known he was capable of doing absolutely anything necessary to advance his name in the bid for power.

“I will not have you ruining Verania’s chances.  Remember this, that Apostate is nothing more than a leech clinging to you until he finds a better meal.  Focus in the task at hand.  Enjoy this bit of freedom while you can.  Once your schooling is over, you will become Hawke’s _faithful, dutiful, and **obedient**_ spouse.  Even if it fucking kills you.”

 As the seasoned Magister knelt to lean into his face, Fenris found that there was no familial attachment in those dark eyes.  “Or else I will.  This is your last chance to prove you have any value to this family."

Magister Vinicius left Fenris laying on the floor of his office.  He didn’t break his stride as he passed Dragon waiting outside the doors in the hall, a small hand gesture instructed the hired Qunari to follow him.   

“How serious is it between them?”

Dragon kept his eye looking forward, shortening his stride to keep pace with the Magister.  “Very.”

“Get rid of him.”

Dragon rolled his shoulders at the familiar command.  “You got it boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a research paper due next week, so the next chapter may be delayed. I hope this one holds you guys over.


	6. King Takes Bishop (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How would you spend your last day together with the one you love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting quickly since I wasn't able to post last week, so please bare with me on spelling a mixed up words. I'll do better next update.
> 
> Major paper complete, it's now full steam ahead now!

Fenris hadn’t been able to find Dragon once he peeled himself off his father’s rug.  He wondered how many before him had found themselves at the Magister’s feet on that same carpet.  How many of the stains were actually blood and sweat? 

Composed, spine straight, Fenris let himself out of the office.  _A necessity of those with power_.  He recalled the explanation his father gave him years ago when he first witnessed his iron grip on those he held power over.  Intimidation, fear, it all played into the game. 

Fenris found that he had to constantly remind himself, _it needs to be this way._

One day Varania would have to follow in his stead, perhaps even higher.  If so, she’d have to be just as cruel, just as ruthless to keep the other Houses in check.  His thoughts of obligation and House responsibility tumbled through his mind until he noticed a car parked in front of his home.  Leaning forward in the hired cab, he could just make out the family crest.

Pavus.

Not saying a word to the already paid driver, he opened the door and rushed across the lawn.  As he reached for the handle, the door swung out to greet him.  Thankfully, his boxing lessons with Dragon had him dodge the possible blow, but in so doing, he ended up bumping into Dorian who was on his way out. 

Dorian caught Fenris in his arms and didn’t let go.  “My, my, aren’t we in a hurry to get home to someone who is decidedly _not_ our fiancé.”

Shoving the man back, Fenris stared at Dorian in complete shock.  “How could you?…no…NO!” 

The sound of Dorian’s self-amused laugh taunted Fenris as he rushed into the home, “Anders?  Anders!”

Taking the stairs three at a time, he sprinted to Anders’ room to find the blonde passed out on his bed.  He fell onto the bed to sit next to Anders, pulling him up by the shirt, the mage’s head lolled from side to side. 

“Anders, Anders!  What did he do to you?”  Dorian’s parting words popped into his head.  “Fasta Vass!  What did you tell him?”

“Fenris?”  Anders’ eyes fluttered open, “Wha?  I thought you just left?”

“Anders.  I need you to focus.  What did you tell him?”

“Tell who?”

“DORIAN!”

Anders sat up on his own, cradling his head as Fenris took up pacing back and forth.  “I…oh.  Oh, yes.  Dorian.  Wow, I hadn’t seen him in forever.”

Fenris froze still and narrowed his eyes on Anders.  “Care to expound on that?  I think I miss heard you.”

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Anders didn’t notice Fenris’ scowl as he hung his head while collecting his thoughts.  “He came by today, asking…something.  I ran into him when first came into the country.”

Rage boiled through Fenris as his clenched fists caused his fingernails bite harshly into his palms.  “What – exactly – do you mean when you say ‘ran into’?”

Anders finally looked up at the harsh words spoken through gritted teeth.  “He saved me from a group of drunks.  Fenris, you can’t be mad at me, that was forever ago.”

His honey eyes were wide and pleading.  The sincerity behind his words, tamped Fenris’ temper slightly, but he couldn’t shake the faint feeling of betrayal.  “But he was here today.  If it wasn’t to rekindle what you had, then…did he ask you about me?”

Anders’ eyes finally snapped open with sharp clarity, “Yes, yes!  That’s it, that’s what he was asking about.  Andraste’s flaming ass, why does my head hurt?”

Stepping closer, Fenris could feel the lingering magic in the air.  He flared his markings to clear out the last of it, Anders smiled up at him appreciatively.  Ignorant.  He traced the side of Anders’ face lightly with one hand, “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Fenris backed away from the confused look on his face to make a call on his cell.  “Yes.  This is Fenris, I need to talk to father.  Tell him it’s about Pavus.”

The conversation with his father was short and predictable.  When the call ended, Fenris watched his phone’s screen fade to black.  A bleak metaphor for his life as he knew it.  Everything was coming to an end.  A dark, soulless end. 

“Fenris?  What’s going on, what timeline is moving forward?”

Fenris tossed his phone on the desk.  Anders’ brows were knit with concern, like a confused pup who didn’t understand why it had to be put down for its own good. 

“Pavus knows about the marriage now, which means that the other Houses will know.  They’ll try to shut down the deal.”  Returning to the bed, he slumped down to sit next to Anders, this time he hung his head.  “This is the only thing in my life that I can **finally** do right by my family.  I can’t let this deal fall through.  I won’t be able to finish school now.  The wedding has to take place by the end of the week.”

Saying it aloud sent a tremor through his hands.  How had this happened?  A warm hand covered his, stilling his shaking fingers. 

“I’m sorry.  I had no idea…”

“It’s not your fault.  He used a compulsion spell.”  Fenris still couldn’t bear to look at him.  “You honestly need to learn to defend yourself.”

Anders puffed a small, half-hearted chuckle. 

The silence that followed tore at Fenris’ insides.  Time ticked by.  Each second was one moment closer to his imprisonment by matrimony.

“Does this mean we have to stop seeing each other?”  The heavy sadness in Anders’ voice was unmistakable. 

“Yes.”  Surprisingly, Fenris choked on the answer.  He’d thought he would be prepared for this, but he wasn’t.  Everything that he’d been taught wanted him to discard Anders and move on with the nest step to advance his family.  Yet, his heart bled.  It yearned to stay with Anders.  To listen to his comforting voice read at night, to have his long fingers card through his hair, trailing along the edge of his ears.  To wake each morning to his smile, his genuine smile as he kissed Fenris’ on the nose and whispered _good morning_. 

“Make love to me.” 

Anders remained silent, still.  Fenris began to wonder if he’d even said the words out loud or not.  Feeling embarrassed, he stood to leave, but Anders didn’t let go of his hand.  Looking back at the mage, he was a wreck of emotion.  One of the earliest observations that Fenris made about Anders was the poor sod was horrible at keeping a poker face.  Anders was assuredly the most caring and expressive man he’d ever met.  “Please, don’t leave me.”

Edging back to the bed, Fenris spoke softly, “I don’t want to.” 

 _But I have to._   It went unsaid, but it was understood between them both.

Like a catalyst, the shared thought sent their hands ripping at the other’s clothes.  Anders surged from his spot and claimed Fenris’ mouth harshly, as if he were a starving man having his last meal.  As their lips danced and their tongues caressed, Anders pulled at Fenris’ clothes with vigor.  The buttons shot across the room.  Anders jerked down on the sleeves to trap Fenris’ arms in the bunched up silk.  Twisting to step around Fenris, he pushed the elf face down on the bed.  Anders reached around Fenris’ waist, clumsily unlatching the belt and loosening the breeches. 

Fenris closed his eyes, letting the man take control.  He focused on Anders’ heavy breathing.  It was wild and laced with the subtle sound of thick swallowing.  The mage sounded like a feral beast more so than a man.  His skilled hands came to rest on Fenris’ hips.  Ready to take him.  All of these elements stroked a wanton fire within him that raced through his cock.  It hung between his spread legs, hard as steal even without being touched. 

Anders licked his lips and swallowed once more, “Are you certain?  We’ve never, I mean, I’m usually…”

“Anders.  Take me.  Fuck me to the point that I will never desire any man but you.  Obliterate my mind.”

Fenris wanted to forget the world, his family, everything.  Everything but Anders.  He spent all of his attention on memorizing the feel of the man’s hands caressing the roundness of his ass.  Taking his words to heart, Anders went straight to sucking on Fenris’ perineum.

“ _Nnngh!_ ” 

He felt Anders’ smile as the man’s face was pressed against his body, pleased with the response.  Anders continued to suckle in the same spot as he took Fenris in hand, the slow strokes were soon joined by the other hand which pressed a long finger into Fenris’ ass.  Fenris bit hard into the bedding, muffling a hellacious scream.  He pressed his face harder into the fabric while rocking backward onto Anders’ face. 

Suddenly, his gut clenched tight and Fenris lurched forward.  “Stop!  I don’t want to yet.”

Taking his hand off Fenris’ rear, Anders snagged hold of the shirt and twisted hard, fully immobilizing the arms.  He continued to stroke lazily as he spoke, “Oh yes you will.  I believe this is called payback.”

Cutting off any attempt at protest, Fenris’ body became an explosion of pleasure as Anders’ tongue swirled and probed around his tight entrance.  The greedy moans coming from the mage put Fenris entirely at his mercy. 

There was no resisting any longer, he had to succumb, “ _Oh, yes, Anders, please yes, Anders!_ ”

A final firm, stroke-squeeze and Fenris spilled his seed into an impressive mess on the bed.  He fell to his side, gasping for breath, and watched helpless as Anders ripped the soiled sheets from the bed.  The mage tossed his clothing in the same corner as the sheets before he crawled onto the bed and while resting on his knees, he pulled at Fenris to fully remove the rest of his clothing.

In a sex satisfied haze, Fenris purred at Anders, “That smug grin does not suit you.” 

Anders tossed Fenris’ clothes in the growing laundry pile.  He tugged and pulled to put Fenris flat on his back and wrapped the lyrium branded legs around his waist.  Fenris sucked in a sharp breath as he felt Anders’ hot arousal pressing against his ass.  He couldn’t help but squirm with a broad grin plastered to his face at the thought of what Anders was planning to do with it. 

“But it suits you.”  Anders sighed, breathless, “By Andraste’s sword, you’re gorgeous.”

Fenris bucked his hips against Anders, intentionally keeping his tone low, knowing Anders got off on the deep timbre.  “Leave Andraste out of this and show me what you plan to do with your _sword_.”

Anders leaned forward to reach the oft used vial on the bed stand from its warmer.  Fenris secretly appreciated how Anders would make such small adjustments in his routine reduce his use of magic.  Fenris loved him for it.

The realization came at an extraordinarily bad time.  Anders was just starting to press in when Fenris froze in shock.  He backed off immediately, “I’m sorry, I thought.  Don’t worry, it’s okay, we can switch…I don’t want…”

Fenris bolted upright, snaring Anders by the neck, their lips a breath apart.  “No. It’s…I care for you.”

He felt the tension melt from Anders muscles as they relaxed in his hold.  An affectionate grin poured onto Anders’ face and Fenris couldn’t help but copy it himself.

“I _care_ for you too.”  Anders scooped Fenris up by the chest, kissing him passionately, incessantly.  Fenris dissolved in his arms, letting the blonde guide him back down on the pillows, Anders became further wedged between his legs.  He writhed in the man’s arms, wanting, begging, whimpering for more.  Anders worked himself into position, his well-oiled head easing in tenderly.  He took his time, taking his cues from Fenris, not once halting his lips’ worship of the elf’s body.  The tip of his tongue traced a line from the collarbone to loop around the ear.  A nip at the earlobe teased a giggle from Fenris.

They were so absorbed in each other that Fenris hadn’t had the time to notice when Anders had bottomed out until he attempted his first delicate thrust.

Fenris pinched his eyes shut with Anders braced over him, “Want me to stop?”

It wasn’t bad, just different.  A finger was tantalizing, hitting him exactly as he wanted.  This impressive fullness was intoxicating.  The way his walls stretched and hugged Anders cock created a desperate hunger for more.  “No.  Do it again.”

This time he truly felt it, the soft tip nudging over those sensitive nerves, the succulent draw as Anders pulled out.  “There.  Fuck, there.  Again!”

Fenris was panting.  He sat up on his elbows to gaze down between them.  Taking in the erotic scene, Anders impaling him, over and over, caused life to stir again in his own prick.  Falling back into the pillows, Fenris arched his back in silent permission for Anders to increase his pace.  The skilled healer’s now healthy, stronger hands firmly grabbed Fenris by the waist and began to pound harder.  Deeper.  Faster.  His body sang at the sensation.  He arched more, fingers digging ruthlessly into the remaining blanket. 

“Fenris…I-I…”

At the telling words, the elf hooked his legs around Anders, trapping their bodies together.  Fenris delighted in watching Anders’ chest prickle with tiny goosebumps as he pumped his seed into him.  The rim of his ass could feel the pulses throb within Anders’ cock.  It was bliss. 

The mage collapsed on top of Fenris, his chest heaving, “Blessed Maker, I don’t deserve you."

Fenris ran his fingers through Anders long hair, working out the few tangles that had formed from their rutting.  “You don’t belong here.  You’re too good, too caring.  I wouldn’t…”

Anders sat up at his words, eyes brimming with curiosity that pushed Fenris to actually say what he meant.  “I couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt.  It would destroy me.”

Anders chuckled as he bent his head down to have their noses rub, “So you would protect me?”

“Yes.”

Anders pulled away at the serious conviction in Fenris’ voice, his happy smile fading, “But, you-you can’t be serious.  What of your fiancé?  You know that we have to…”

Anders was cut off as he tried to wipe away the tears budding in his eyes.  It was too much and Fenris had spoken hastily, he needed to think.  “I’m sorry to have caused you distress.  I’ll go clean up to give you a moment.”

Fenris turned the shower to full hot.  His dark skin took on a slight red hue, but he continued to stand, accepting it, letting it wash over his body.  Looking down, his eyes traced the scrolling lines of lyrium that covered nearly every inch of his body.  He suffered through that for _him_.  He was getting married, for _him._   Why in the Maker’s name couldn’t he do something for himself?  Leaning an arm against the wall, he pressed his head to his forearm, his thoughts a swirl of madness.  Tradition breaking madness.  But wasn’t the marriage breaking from tradition?  Wasn’t the alliance with Kirkwall breaking from tradition? 

The water beat down on him, the heat finally reaching his brands and causing them to itch.  Fenris knew that next they would burn, then sting, then turn to razors…but that hadn’t happened in weeks.  Not since Anders.

Anders who cared about his day, cared for his thoughts, cared for his skin.  Anders who cared to call him by name.

With greater force than necessary, Fenris shut off the water.  With stiff movements full of resolve, he toweled off and quickly dressed.  Walking back to Anders’ room, he felt light and happy, eager to share his news.

“Anders!  I’ve decided to – “ The room was empty.  “Anders?”

He padded downstairs, scanning the empty living room then went methodically through the whole house.  No Anders.  Fenris had long ago learned his class schedule and knew he had no obligations this afternoon.  Perhaps he missed him in the bedroom, or he left a note.  Back upstairs, Fenris checked the desk.  It was cleared of all of Anders books and notes.  All of them.  Leaping to the closet, he flung the door open to find it empty.  He then sprinted down and out of the house, screaming into the encroaching night.

“Anders?  ANDERS! ANDERS!”  Panic was clawing at his insides with each step he took.  Did he find an Uber?  Why didn’t he say anything?  No – no, no, no.  This couldn’t be happening.  What –

Fenris fell to his knees on the sidewalk, catching his head in his hands.  Years under his father’s hand had taught him to hold back his tears.  This was the first time that they came disturbingly close to breaking through, further proof that what he felt had been real.  So real, that the loss felt like a part him had died.  Growling through clenched teeth, he shook his head and dragged himself back to the house.  He’d come back, he’d HAVE to come back.

 

The following morning, Fenris woke in Anders bed.  Alone.  Before relieving himself in the bathroom, he checked the house again, verifying that the beautiful blonde had not returned.  He was sitting in the living room when his father and Krem arrived, letting themselves in without so much as a knock. 

“Well, fine mess your roommate has put us in.”  Magister Perditus read his phone as he spoke, not giving a moment’s pause to greet his son.  “Krem will take you to the tailors for your clothes, then the courthouse to sign documents with Hawke…”  He looked up from his phone. 

The Magister turned to look about the room.  “Where is that little shit anyway?”

“He left.”

“Huh.”  Perditus shrugged then returned his attention back to his phone.  “Good riddance, little bastard probably knew I was going to turn his ass inside out anyway.  Alright, well, get up and go with Krem, you have a lot to get done today.”

Fenris rose to stand next to the hired man.  Magister Perditus shot him a devilish half smile, disbelieving, “No arguments?  No conditional demands?  You drunk?”

“No father.”

“Then, you’ll behave from now on through the wedding?”

“Yes father.”

The Magister cackled to himself as he made for the door.  “’Yes, father.  No, father.’  See?  It’s not so hard being a good boy is it?”

_A good boy.  Like a dog._

Fenris lowered his eyes, resigned to his fate.  “No, father.”

In the car, Fenris stared out the window.  He still felt somewhat betrayed by Anders leaving, but at least wherever he was, he was safe from his father.

**THE NIGHT BEFORE…**

Anders flopped down on the bed with a heavy sigh.  He’d thought he’d been prepared for this moment.  It’d come too soon, mostly from his ignorance.  There was no escaping that. 

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot.”

“At least you’re the one to say it.”

Anders almost fell out of the bed at the strange voice, but unluckily he was caught.  And collared.  Massive hands wrapped around his face, muffling any sounds he could utter as he was dragged from the bedroom.  When they passed by the bathroom in the hall, he began kicking and squirming to try and break free to warn Fenris.  He stopped suddenly when rounded cold metal was pressed to his temple. 

“That’s right.  Go quietly or we’ll go _silently._ ”  It was Dragon’s voice. 

Fear snapped around him like a bear trap.  Regular thieves would simply ransack the place, but Dragon, he worked for a Magister who might as well be a demon incarnate.  Anders managed a nod of agreement, then let Dragon haul him down stairs.  Anders watched as other hired people, some he’d seen before, some he hadn’t, cleared out his room in seconds. 

Outside under the shade of the large trees, the hired lackeys tossed all of Anders’ belongings into the trunk.  Then Dragon tossed Anders on top of the pile, slamming the trunk shut.  In the darkness, Anders’ fingers fumbled around the collar around his neck.  He’d heard of these before but never seen on in person.  It was suffocating.  The Fade had been cut off from him and not even the most basic of spells worked.  The collar had no seam, no mechanism that he could detect that would let him free himself. 

He should have guessed something like this would happen after Fenris called his father, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon.  Or lacking any chance for Anders to just run away.  Trying to put some purpose to his mind to keep from going crazy, he sifted through his belongings to find something to wear.  If he was going to end up dead in the gutter, at least the headline in the news wouldn’t be: Naked Mage Found Dead. 

Assuming there’d even been any news about an Apostate.  He doubted there would.

What seemed like hours later, the car finally came to a stop.  When the trunk opened, the darkness confirmed that it was well past sunset.  Dragon and a dark skinned man with short hair hauled him out by his arms.  Anders wasn’t given the opportunity to walk, they dragged him through an ally to a spot well-lit by a street light.

Waiting for them were Magister Perditus and one other hired muscle, the only one who had the same caramel coloring as a native Tevinter.  It seemed that hired muscle could come from anywhere, even the homeland.

With no words, no introduction or accusations, the Magister lifted a brow at the other Vint who then set into a merciless bombardment of blows.  It only took two to cripple Anders’ ability to stand.  Four made it impossible to breathe. 

He lost count after fourteen.

Eventually, the Magister spoke over the punches, raising his voice just over the sound of the beating.  He’d done this before.  “You filthy Apostates are all the same.  Scampering over our borders, thinking that your magic means something.”

At the Magister’s hand gesture, the punches moved from Anders’ torso to his face.  Steady, solid contact.  The pause between each once seemed to be perfectly measured to allow Anders time to fear the next blow. 

After a long break, Anders cracked one eye open tentatively.  The world around him was fuzzy and he could feel the blood pooling in his eye socket.  His nervous system was a chaotic mess, frantically alerting his brain to the location of each injury, his body instinctively searching for the Fade, panicking when there was none to be found. 

“Hold his head up.”  A hand roughly snatched him by the hair and snapped his head up.  The Magister stood calm and still, hands clasped behind his back, a fierce scowl of disgust aimed at Anders.  “I had thought my wife somewhat clever in her idea to have someone like you room with the boy.  No family should have meant no plotting, and yet, here we are.”

“I-I-I…”  Anders couldn’t form words, the muscles in his mouth refused to obey.  The thick blood oozing from his numb lips hindered his tongue. 

A swift punch silenced him as the Magister bent over him to roar in his face, “You think I fucking care what you have to say?!”

“Please.  All me.  Not Fenris.”  It took all that he had to force the words from his heart.  His chest clenched and eyes watered at the thought of Fenris suffering the same, if not worse, fate as he.

“He is fortunate that he has to attend the wedding.  The rush of which is costing me a small fortune, thanks to you.”  Anders felt a thick slap of spit land on his face.  “Dragon, I’m done with this refuse.  Finish the job.”

Anders felt the large Qunari shift, but his movements were interrupted when Dragon’s text notification blipped.

Perditus sneered, “Who the fuck is that?”

“Fucking spam.”  With an irritated growl, he tucked the phone back in his pocket, Dragon and his partner dropped Anders in the mud.  “Krem, you know the drill, take the boss home.  We don’t want him anywhere near this.”

A nod and the two Vints were in the car and gone.  Dragon waited until the tail lights were no longer visible before turning back on his target.

“Sorry ragamuffin, tough break.” 

In the back of his luxury sedan, Magister Vinicius’ mouth curled up into a sinister grin as he heard the faint sound of a gunshot ring out in the alley behind them. 

 

 

 

 


	7. Queen’s move: Sans Voir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The World comes crashing down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the longer chapter makes up for the late post :)

_The last thing Anders remembered, he lay somewhere.  Injured.  Bleeding, both internally and externally.  He needed medical attention._

_The call of the real world was incessant.  His mind desperate to wake up and tend to his current physical state, but he pushed back._

_He had to protect Fenris._

_Had to let him know he was in danger._

_Searching the Fade, calling out, he sought…_

Reality slammed against him like a runaway truck.  He gasped as his heart raced, his entire body lurching forward as if he’d been flung from a catapult. 

Dorian jumped way from Anders’ flailing.  “Vishante kaffas!  What in the Void were you doing?  You know better than to dawdle in the Fade like that.” 

“Hold still, I have more work to do.”  The man that had helped Dragon hold Anders during his beating was treating the swelling wounds.

Anders rubbed at his temple, “I don’t understand.  What’s going on?  Shouldn’t I be dead in a gutter?”

“No my sweet.  Not today at any rate.”  A woman with perfectly curled blond hair strode toward him with confident grace.  Her eyes were an icy blue, but her face and full lips were nothing but warmth.  “It is unfortunate that you have been caught up in this hidden civil war.”

Anders groaned, “Maker.  Why can’t things ever be simple?”

Aghast, Dorian turned to the blonde lady in shock, “My dear Maevaris, who does he think we are?  Farmers?  Nothing is simple in Tevinter.  The stakes are too high in this game.”

Anders seethed in mild pain as a poultice was pressed to the last of the bruises on his ribs, then held in place via a skilled wrapping of bandages.  He was torn.  The man had stopped the profuse bleeding from the bullet to his leg, dressed the wounds, tended to the bruises and even managed to lessen the pain.  He wanted to ask the man a thousand questions, but his current level of safety was still an unknown.

Scanning the room, Anders posed his question to anyone willing to answer, “Is there anyone who can tell me what is going on?”

Dorian poured himself some wine from a nearby table, the single glass clearly intended for the injured party.  “I believe I am best suited for that, however, I can’t tell you everything.”

Anders rolled his eyes as he leaned back in the bed.  “Of course you can’t.  Should I bother asking why not?”

Dorian directed Anders’ attention to look out the window where the main plaza, Unity Square, was currently undergoing a thorough cleaning.  “Because in a few days, you’re going to see your darling Fenris again.”

***

The Iron Dragon parked in front of the lofty **_Tragoedia_ ** hotel in the Gilded Quarter.  With all that happened with Altus Pavus, he no longer had to sneak around to conduct his visits.  The gears had been set and now it was time to have the political mechanism begin its grinding march to the inevitable conclusion.  His boots clicked rhythmically as he walked across the white marble floor of the expansive lobby.  Gold trimmed each door, each window and decorated every bare spot to be found.  As much as the Tevinters scorned the excesses of Orlais, they certainly weren’t above some bullshit showmanship themselves. 

Dragon let himself into the Penthouse suite with the key he’d been given.  He had to admit that dealing with matters in person made his job much easier.  Seeing a person’s reaction told a lot about how well a job was being handled, and as vain as it sounded, he liked doing a good job.  It spoke to how bad ass he was at everything.

“I see you have abandoned all pretenses.”  Hadriana stood on the balcony and spoke to him through the open glass door. 

Seated by the balcony, Hawke was fully engaged with his phone and paid no attention to Dragon as he joined them in the warm pseudo-garden.  He handed over a packet of papers.  “A preview of the pre-nuptial agreement.

She tossed the large envelope on the small round table.  “What of the mage?  Did you get it?”

“Alive, as requested and here is this.”  Dragon handed over a vile of blood.  “A bit worse for wear though.  Scrawny bastard is tougher than he looks.”

“And only you know where to find him?”

“Me and Stitches.  Had to have my healer patch ‘im up after Magister Vinicius was through with ‘im.” 

“What does Perdicius know?”

Dragon shrugged, “Thinks I put a bullet in his head, so you’ve got one up on him in that regard.  You’re welcome.”

Hadriana nodded before walking to the edge of the balcony to overlook the plaza below.  “Unity Square.  Only the greatest Houses can afford to be married there, and **_I_** will be one of them.”  She turned sharply on Dragon, amazingly not spilling a drop of her drink.  “And the Will has Hawke inheriting everything when Perditus dies, correct?”

Dragon jerked a thumb toward the discarded packet.  “Small caveat, Verania needs to be married off before Perditus dies for Hawke to inherit.”

“Shit.”  Hadriana tapped a fingernail to her teeth as she thought.  Giving up she waved her hand in a grand gesture of indifference.  “Doesn’t matter the mother has a line of men waiting to take her hand.”  She sniffed with smug satisfaction.  “Especially when they learn of the family’s ties with **_me_**.”

Dragon snorted a short laugh, “You worry about all that lyrium you promised the Archon, then everything will work itself out.”

“Just as you are working your way out of Tevinter?”

Dragon helped himself to one of the many pastries laid out on a silver platter, chewing as he spoke.  “Me **and** my boys.  Everyday this place gets more fucked up.  The backstabbing around here is worse than Seharon.  My guys have worked their asses off and it’s time to move on.”  He sucked the last of the cream filling off his fingers.  “I’m still holding you to our bargain.”

“Yes, yes, of course you, filthy ox-man.  As if I would need mercenaries once all of this done.  Who needs the likes of you when I will be able to bring the Imperium to its knees?”

Dragon winked at her, ignoring the overt insults.  “Just so we’re on the same page.”

He knew a dismissal when he was given one.  Snatching two more pastries, he took his leave.  He didn’t allow himself a knowing grin until he was safely hidden away in the descending elevator. 

***

Fenris returned to his home after being dragged through another endless round of appointments by Krem.  He’d lost count of how many, but didn’t lose sight of the fact he would be married tomorrow.  He was a bit surprised to find Verania sitting on the couch, reading a book in wait for him.  Once he crossed the threshold, she nodded to her bodyguards, Skinner and Dalish, who left them to be alone as they joined Krem outside. 

“So.  It’s your b-big day tomorrow.”  Varania played with her fingers in her lap, a nervous tick she’d had since childhood when she had to think on what she would say.  “I’m told it will be quite the g-grand affair.”

Fenris had an acerbic retort on the tip of his tongue, but held it back.  She’d done nothing to deserve his ire.  She was in as much a rough spot as he.  Trapped by the circumstances of their birth.  Instead, he sighed heavily and joined her on the couch. 

“I thought…why – did you ever consider running away?” Fenris was a bit surprised that he Circle had been unable to correct her stutter. 

The thought did nothing to ebb his shock at her question, “Where did that come from?  Why would I?”

“Coming b-back from the circle, things – p-politics are more complicated than I imagined.”  She dipped her head to stare at her fingers again.  “M-more painful than I thought.”

In a flash, Fenris grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes bored into hers, “He didn’t touch you did he?  Did he hurt you?”

“Maker no!  F-Fenris please.”  At her firm answer he eased his grip, but his gaze was still intense, trying to look beyond any falsities she might be forced into saying at their father’s defense.  “You know f-father wouldn’t lay a hand on me.  I’m ‘too valuable’.”

Relief washed over Fenris and he finally released his hold to rub a hand over his face.  “At least there’s that.  I couldn’t stand to lose you too.  Speaking of, what are you doing here?”

Varania shrugged with a wry smile, “Escaping our mother and her endless lessons.  I think I could identify the smalls of every house in the Imperium.”

“An admirable achievement.”  Fenris couldn’t help but let a small chuckle escape at how his accolade made her laugh.  Anders had only been gone a few days and yet, it felt like an eternity since he’d smiled. 

“I heard from father that your roommate left with little warning?”

Reflexively, Fenris’ long ears drooped a bit before he caught the motion.  Verania hadn’t missed it. 

“You really did care for that ragamuffin didn’t you?”  She took his hand in hers, squeezing it affectionately.  “Considering how you felt for him, I’m not sure if it a kindness or a curse that he left that thing for you to remember him by.”

Fenris quirked his head up at her comment, “What?”

“Y-you didn’t notice?  His cloak, it’s still in the entry closet.  I saw it when I-I hung mine up.” 

Although Fenris knew were the closet was, he followed the direction of her pointed finger.  Inside, shoved toward the back of the closet, was the dark green cloak, trimmed with feathers at the shoulders.  Fenris pulled it out, staring at it as if it might say something back to him.

“This is his most valuable possession.  It even has a rare enchantment on it.  If he left, he wouldn’t leave this behind.  It’s the only thing he brought with him from the Anderfels.”

Varania was no fool and caught the concern in his voice.  She rose to join him in staring at the cloak, curious if there were any other hidden clues.  “If it is so priceless, why would he leave it behind?”

Fenris gripped it tighter in his hands, his mouth twisted into a gnarled frown.  “Because he didn’t.”

 

Verania held Fenris’ hand as they marched through the Magistrate, Skinner and Dalish trailing behind.   Fenris brushed past his father’s bewildered secretary who weakly attempted to keep the group from entering the offices.  The loud crack of Fenris kicking the door in caused all in the office to turn to face him.  Hadriana and Hawke were clearly in midst of some meeting, quill in hand to sign papers.  The bodyguards took up stations outside the office.

“I should have thought it was too convenient that you showed up right after Anders disappeared.  What did you do to him?”  Fenris halted his march to slam his hands down on the Magister’s desk, shouting at the man who claimed to be his father.  “WHERE IS HE!?”

Perditus’ eyes raked over Fenris with cold indifference before he turned his attention back to his guests.  “And sign here.”

The two Kirkwall visitors penned their names in sweeping loops at the bottom of a contract.  In a calm tone, the Magister raised his head to fix Fenris with a chilling stare.  Verania stepped closer to Fenris in a move of encouraging support.  Fenris welcomed her presence, but didn’t break eye contact with his father.  He’d suffered everything that the man had ever thrown this way over the years, but this was the final straw. 

Perditus raised the recently signed contract, “Do you know what this is?  It’s the final marriage certificate and ‘Rights of House’ statement.  You are no longer a member of my House by technicality of the law.  Altus Hawke is now your keeper.”  The Magister turned to Hawke and gestured to Fenris with an open palm.  “Would you like to know how to bring your dog to heel?”

Hadriana stepped forward, “Allow me.  I am the one who discovered the hex in the first place.”

Fenris’ veins turned to ice and he scrambled back with fear.  “No! You can’t…”  Fenris flared his brands to cancel out her magic before she could cast, but it was too late.  Hadriana had already grabbed his hand and was forcing her magic to course through him, heating the lyrium in his skin, cooking his flesh slowly.  Perditus upturned his nose at the smell while dawning slowly grew on Hawke’s face.  This was something the Kirkwall mage was not accustomed to.

Magister Vinicius nudged Hawke forward, “Altus, jerk the chain on your dog.”

Verania set off a mind blast that pushed Hawke back and broke Hadriana’s connection to Fenris.  Her brother crumpled to the floor.  She rushed to Fenris’ side, cradling his head in her lap, “F-father please!  There’s no c-call for this!”

“No call?  He nearly ruined an alliance that was years in the making.  He challenged me in front of guests!  Your mother has indulged you both too far as you have clearly forgotten the discipline that the Circle should have ingrained in you from day one.  You will never question me, or my actions.  Everything I do, is for this House and I will let **nothing** and **no one** get in my way.”

Just as he was priming a spell to use against her, Fenris snuffed it out with a cry of agony.  Using his brands so soon was pure torture.  “Don’t.  You may lash out at me, but not her.”

“F-Fenris…”

Taking her hand, Fenris silenced the argument on the tip of her tongue.  Tears pricked in his eyes.  There was only one way he could protect her.  “I’ll never ask about Anders again if you swear to leave her out of this.”

“Fath-” A sharp slap to the face cut Verania off.  Hot blood trickled down her face from where the man’s rings sliced through her cheek.

“I will not negotiate with anyone how I exercise my power.  Least of all you.”  Magister Vinicius grabbed Hawke by the arm and dragged him closer, “You observed the spell, bring your spouse into check!”

Hawke was stunned silent, his eyes darting from his aunt back to the Magister who was straightening his cockeyed rings.  “Magister, I don’t think-”

Hawke was flung back against a wall, the wind knocked clean out of him.  “There are no Templars here, _Champion_.  If you wish to survive, you need to learn to defend against  real magic.  What is the point of aspiring to power if you refuse to use it?  I’ll have no more accusations or future embarrassments coming from that thing.”

The words struck a chord in Fenris that he realized was long overdue.  His father had attacked him countless times, belittled his mother and just assaulted his sister.  This man was no father.  He was a rabid beast that didn’t deserve to live.

“Dragon already took care of your worthless fling.  Permanently.”  The Magister turned with a flourish of his robes and strode for the door.  Before exiting, he called out, “Verania, with me.  I will now oversee all of your lessons.  Hadriana, ensure Hawke takes take care of this.  I will not tolerate any more disruptions from members of _your_ House.”

The door slammed shut and as if on cue.  Hadriana padded over the elegant carpet to stand over Fenris.  “Don’t look so glum little one.  Your paramour is still alive.” 

Fenris couldn’t believe it.  One moment his world had been destroyed and now, now there was a glimmer of hope?  Impossible.  Knowing Hadriana, this was some sick joke.  “You lie.”

“Unlike your father, I have learned not to waste anything of potential use.”  She placed one finger on Fenris’ forehead pressing down, magic swirling around the tip.  He didn’t jerk away for fear of provoking her.  He couldn’t stomach another round.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“Because I know that if you have nothing left to live for, you might do something stupid. So long as you wish to see your precious Apostate one day, you will not harm me or my nephew.  In fact…” 

Hadriana produced a vial of what looked like blood.  “Drink.”

A finger still touching his forehead, Fenris was completely at her mercy.  He opened his mouth reluctantly as she poured the acrid fluid down his throat.  The liquid landed hard in his stomach, sitting heavy as his body slowly absorbed it.  In moments, he could feel the sting as it began to course through his blood and stick to his brands.  It started out as mildly annoying, like sandpaper being rubbed over his skin, but eventually it escalated.  His typically blue glow burned so hot the color turned white.  Fenris screamed in pain from the brutal torment pumping throughout his body, the sound so horrifying that Hawke covered his ears as he pressed himself further against the wall.  It was not a quick procedure.  Whatever this was, it required time to slowly work its way through his system.  Hadriana took a seat behind the desk to watch at her leisure.  Fenris lost his voice long before the solution was done doing its work. 

In the end, he collapsed to the floor, silently begging the Maker to let him die.

“Andraste’s flaming tits!  What did you do?”  Hawke was dumbfounded as he slowly made his way back to the center of the office, his eyes fixed on the ruined elf sprawled on the floor. 

“It doesn’t matter.”  She kicked lightly at Fenris’ limp body.  “All he needs to know is that if he wants the hex removed, he can’t kill me or you.  Remember that Hawke, dear.  Always have the upper hand and never forget the wrongs others have inflicted on you.”  Hadriana lowered herself to kneel beside the wasted elf, his muscles scarcely able to keep his skin attached to his frame.  She filtered her fingers through his soft hair.  “I hadn’t forgotten you see.  I remember your testimony against Denarius.  Pay back is a bitch isn’t it?”

Fenris couldn’t open his eyes, the sound of a door opening and closing was the only indication he had that he was alone with Hawke. 

“Holy shit.”  Hawke paced the room, running his hand through his hair in a failed attempt to calm his panic.  “How…dammit.”  He crouched next to Fenris on the floor.  “What can I do?  I-”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”  Fenris put as much force into the sentence as he could, but it still came out as a weak, gravely croak.  Thankfully, Hawke sprang to his feet and backed off, holding his hands up defensively. 

“Got it, got it.”  Left with no further instructions, he picked up his pacing again.  “Maker’s hairy ball sack, this is nothing like Kirkwall.  Is this kind of stuff normal?”

“You stupid cunt, of course it is.  How did you think Magisters kept their power?”  Fenris kept his body still but talked to Hawke to keep from passing out.  Something didn’t ring right with him.  It took a few minutes before he was able to put his finger on it.  “Dragon, The Iron Dragon.  Do you know him?”

“Yeah, I know him.  I was surprised when your fath-, Magister Vinicius mentioned him.  I thought he was in my Aunt’s employ.” 

“And what exactly, would give you that impression?”

***

A Friday wedding with natural overcast skies.  It was the type of good omen that many couples hoped for on their own wedding day.  Fenris gave it little thought.  Like a puppet, he wore what he was told, stood where he was instructed.  Even with the extremely short notice, there was a massive turnout.  Hadriana and his mother enjoyed receiving the higher Houses, gloating over the unprecedented alliance. 

Gamlen and Perdicius weren’t immune to the attention either.  They stood close to the Black Divine, ensuring everyone knew their status warranted His blessing.  The Divine had been paid off to conduct the ceremony.  Everyone had a price, and Fenris had shown his hand.  He cared for his sister, cared for Anders.  That weakness further distanced him from the reins of power.    

People and events swirled around Fenris.  At some point music played.  The Black Divine’s ancient voice pulled Fenris back into the present.  He was unable to recall when he migrated to the dais in the center of the plaza.  It didn’t matter.  His life didn’t matter.  He was only a tool nearing the end of its useful life. 

Hawke stood across from him, his robes traditional battle garb from the Free Marches.  Fenris knew there was symbolism behind it but he couldn’t recall.  His sweat felt hot as it dripped over his cold skin.  This…this couldn’t be happening. 

He took one step back, Hawke was the only one to notice, quirking a questioning brow at him.  Looking out over the gathered masses, the plaza was packed.  All the seats were taken and any remaining space was filled with minor families standing on tiptoe to watch the ceremony.  There was a part in the clouds that let a sliver of sunshine beat through. 

Anders.

His golden hair loose and his goofy ass grin as beautiful as ever.  Fenris bolted from the dais, the indignant shouts of the Black Divine and Hawke equally pissed.  He raced past the finery, the gasps, the giggles.  Fuck those people, fuck them and their whole society.  There was only one thought, one care in the world for Fenris at this moment. 

Anders.

As soon as he reached the mage, he flung himself into his waiting arms.  He spared little time in the embrace, instead tilting his head slightly to capture Anders lips with his.  His taste, his smell.  It was all perfect, shutting out the madness that began to brew around them. 

_‘Run away with me Fenris.’_

A life free.  Free of politics, free of House obligations.  A life with Anders, the one person who filled his heart with joy, with hope.

_‘Yes, take me.’_

An old man cleared his throat with a subtle cough.  Fenris blinked.  The fantasy faded instantly. 

There was no joy in the eyes that met his.  Dark, uncaring, impatient.  The old man cleared his throat again, whispering, “Finish your vows.”

Fenris’ mind clicked to the words he’d memorized, “Take me as I am for we are one.  When and where you go, I will be with you.  Your support, your strength.  Let us Join to be as we should – bound together as one.  May Andraste’s flame cleanse us of our past.  May her sword and shield protect our Union.”

Hawke repeated the Vows, but as the mage head of House, he added, “…and may the Maker’s wisdom guide me as Dominus of House Amell.”

Many in the crowd were unguarded in their reaction at hearing the Kirkwall name now listed as a ‘noble’ House.  Most scoffed at the affront, a few others chuckled at the fact a native Tevinter was placed beneath a foreigner, but what else was to be expected?  Fenris was a _soporatti_.  Magicless and powerless. 

At the conclusion of the final rite, the Black Divine announced them officially wed with only a minor roll of his eyes.  As he accepted Hawke’s hands in his, Fenris had never felt so hallow in his life.  What he wouldn’t give to have those hands be the delicate, soft healer’s hands he’d grown to love.  The plaza erupted into fireworks and minstrels changed from slow, traditional music to more lively and modern selections.  Laser lights decorated the plaza in animated designs as the sun began to set behind the towering buildings. 

Fenris’ skin crawled as attendees added their own magical flare to the celebrations.  Too much unguarded magic that was easily taken for granted.  Servants, slaves and apostates mingled through the crowd with platters of food.  Fenris touched nothing, ate nothing and spoke to no one.  Hawke had hooked his arm around Fenris’ and paraded him around.  At least he was able to put on a show.  Fenris gave the bare minimum of compliance, his heart ripped anew at the thought that Hadriana knew where Anders was.  He wanted nothing more than to tear her rented hotel apart and discover where she was hiding him, but knew that it would only put Anders at risk. 

There were plenty of congratulations on the House alliance, many probing questions that held hopes for future business ventures.  Many remarked at how handsome Hawke was, how fortunate Fenris was, especially considering his societal disadvantage.  

No one wished the them well as a couple. 

Faces, names, comments, they all slipped from Fenris’ memory the moment they were uttered.  The blur continued until around three in the morning when the newlyweds retired to the honeymoon suites at the **_Tragoedia._   **The moment they were in the privacy of their suite, Hawke immediately released Fenris’ arm with a mumbled apology. 

“Does it still hurt?”

“It doesn’t matter.”  Fenris hastily undid the tight mandarin collar of his suit to find some relief. 

Hawke stopped at the couch in the living area of the suite.  His stalled manner of speaking lacked the jubilant confidence he once had, the reality of Tevinter politics weighed heavy on him.  “I think I’ll stay up a bit longer.” 

Fenris acknowledged the statement with a small wave of his hand as he continued to walk to the bedroom.  In all honesty, Fenris hoped Hawke stayed out there the rest of the night.  He didn’t have it in him to perform any ‘spousal duties’ but, thinking more on it, he probably never would.  When had his feelings mattered?  He could lay still and take it.  It’s not as though it meant anything.

Standing in front of the roaring fireplace, he took his knee-length jacket off.  The fine cut and heavily embroidered sleeves marked it among the best, but that didn’t change who Fenris was.  Like the Imperium, it was all about appearances.  The pitiful _soporatti_ given charity by a mage, what a happy rich life he’ll have. 

Little did they know he was no better than a slave catering to the whims of his master.  With a sneer he tossed the garment into the fire.  The greedy flames eagerly consumed the delicate silk, melted the gold embroidery and charged the few gemstones that traced the cuffs.  His bare chest felt a gentle breeze come from the balcony, odd that the door would have been left open considering the heat of the day.  At first he crossed the room to shut the door, but his feet carried him to the railing.  The city shimmered brightly under the night sky.  Looking down, the people and cars were small specks rushing around, a few were wedding guests attempting to carry the party on.  A light budded in his mind. 

Taking his wedding ring off, he set it on the flat rail, then he removed his shoes.  Using a nearby chair, the climbed easily to stand next to the ring.  He nudged it with his toe and watched it fall, spinning in the air until it was too far to see.  The guessed when it hit the ground, wondering if he would take as little time or if his greater weight would quicken the journey.  Hadriana had forbid him from harming her or Hawke.  As Fenris had become accustomed over his short life, his wants, his needs, his life wasn’t ever considered.  Perhaps if he couldn’t be free with Anders, he could at least be free of this cursed life.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes…

“ **Fenris!** ” 

The elf turned so sharply at the familiar voice that he lost his balance.  Thankfully he tumbled back onto the balcony, banging his arm on the metal chair he used as a step.  He remained on the ground in complete disbelief.  “Anders?”

“Andraste’s grace, I thought I was going to lose you.”  Anders had paled to a ghost white, his color slowly returning as he took deep calming breaths. 

“Am I mad?  Are you truly here?”

“Yes, a bit worse for wear, but I’m here.”  At Anders statement, Fenris saw the telltale signs of healing applied long after an injury, faint bruising still ringed the blonde’s eye.  When Anders walked forward, there was a distinct limp on his right side.

Fenris stood, cradling his arm as they closed the distance between them.  “You have to be real.  You look like shit.”

“Come here you ass, let me fix that.”  Anders’ sly grin was the most beautiful thing Fenris had seen all day.

“Not before I taste you once more.”  Fenris reached out with both hands to pull on Anders face, guiding him in for a passionate kiss that was long overdue, but his hands never found purchase.

“What the…?”  Anders stood wide-eyed and mystified, watching as Fenris tested every area of the mage’s body.  Any place he tried to touch, his hand passed through as if Anders were a Fade spirit.

“This can’t be.”  Giving up on his hands, he thrust his head forward to lay claim to Anders’ mouth, but he only stumbled forward, his entire body phasing through Anders. 

Anders whipped around in full distress.  “How can this be possible?”

“Blood magic.”  Fenris fell to his knees, his head hung heavy against his chest.  “Hadriana.  My testimony had her mentor locked away and she…she…”

He couldn’t finish.  Everything came crashing down on him at once.  His father.  The threats.  The wedding.  Anders.

Catching his head in his hands, he sobbed hard, choking on each breath he took, purging his weakened frame of all that he’d once kept bottled inside.  Anders tried to comfort him but, like before, any attempt at physical contact resulted in pointless phasing.  Resigned, he plopped down in front of Fenris, sitting cross legged and helpless.  He tried to be strong, tried to hold it together, but he was soon overcome as well.  His tears were quieter than Fenris’ but no less painful in their origin. 

Under a perfect night sky that could inspire sonnets, the reunited lovers sat.  They were together at last, but damned to never touch, to never hold one another, to never know the gentle caress of the other’s kisses.

Fenris would have gone through the lyrium branding a thousand times to be spared this nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: All the players, hidden plans, and secret workings will be revealed. Checkmate.


	8. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of the scheming, all of the backstabbing comes to an end.

Anders wiped at his face, his vision blurry in the dim light.  In an hour or so, the sun would rise on a new day.  Shitty way to start a new life.  What had he been thinking?  He’d been a fool.  He’d come to Tevinter chasing a child’s fantasy, a dream that could never come true.  He wiped once more at his tears. 

“I’m sorry Anders.  I’m so sorry.”  Fenris’ large emerald eyes rose to meet Anders’.  “You’ve done nothing to deserve this.”

“It was worth it.”  Fenris sneered as he too, wiped his face dry as best he could.  “No, really.  The time I had with you was the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.  All I have ever known is fear, warned never to make friends as the Templars would undoubtedly hurt them to get to you.  I’ve been so alone….I…I can’t do it anymore.”

“Anders we need to be on our way.  Dawdling about like this is not wise.”  Dorian came from an adjoining room but stopped short when he saw the pair sitting.  “Well, if this isn’t the least climatic reunion I’ve ever seen.  It’s a wonder I even bothered to allow you a moment.”

“Hadriana used blood magic on me.”  Fenris pressed his hand through the center of Anders’ chest to demonstrate the phantasm like result. 

Dorian’s eyes nearly fell from his head.  “Vishante kaffas!”  He reached out with both hands to grip the shoulders of both men – solid.  “Clearly the spell is specifically targeted towards Anders.  I’ve never seen anything like it.”  With a shake of his head he dismissed a thought that was on the tip of his tongue, “Later.  We need to get you two out of here.” 

Fenris wrenched his arm free from Dorian.  Standing on his own, he stalked up to the Altus, their faces a breath apart.  “What do you care what has been done?!  All you see is an opportunity to advance your own ambitions!”

Dorian pressed forward, a finger in Fenris’ chest.  “Would you rather this atrocity continues?  Hadriana is insane!”

Slapping the offending hand away, Fenris turned his back on Dorian, regarding Anders who felt the need to defuse the tension.  “Fenris please, I’d be dead if it weren’t for them.  Dragon is working for Hadriana.  He’s been spying on your house for her.” 

“I know.”

“You cannot allow a social climber like her such an advantage.  It will end deadly, make no mistake on that.”  Dorian’s words were clipped and impatient.  “If you’ll forgive my lack of tact, we are a might pressed for time.  You have your lover, be thankful he yet lives.  To put a permanent end to Hadriana and Vinicius, we need you to get us into his office at the Magisterium.  We have it on good authority that there is damming evidence against her and Vinicius.  We just need to change to bring it before the Magisterium and their whole empire will crumble like a house of cards.” 

“Dorian, dear, why am I constantly cleaning up after you?”  Magister Tilani joined them on the balcony, Hawke trailing behind, forced to follow by unseen magical bindings.  “Look who I found listening at the door.”

“Fenris, don’t-don’t do this.  You saw what lengths my aunt and Vinicius will go to.  We’re dead men if you concede to these lunatics!”

Fenris kept his gaze on Anders, the mage not sure what war battled in the elf’s mind.  All he could see were large emerald eyes glazing over – sadness. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause, all he wanted was for Fenris to be happy and safe.  “Fenris, do what is best for you.  I can move on, I’m used to being on the run.  This means turning your back on everything, your family, your culture…”

 **“FUCK THEM!**   **Fuck their culture.** What father mutilates his own son?  What culture encourages the exploitation of the unfortunate?!”  Anders backed away as Fenris’ lyrium surged to a brilliant color, matching his rage. 

“Too long I have focused my anger on the mage class.”  Staring at Anders, the glow faded, Fenris’ ears fell low to match the frown he wore.  “Meeting you, knowing your compassion…I understand now that it’s the Imperium that I hate.” Fenris choked on his words.  “That fucking _culture_ tore you away from me.  Never again.”

Anders moved his hand to Fenris’, the two never meeting, yet holding the same space.  Anders gave a snort of a laugh as he kept his hand there, lingering.  “Then we do this together.  I will never leave your side.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and drew breath to remark on the syrupy moment, but Maevaris cut him off with a nasty flick to his ear.  “As much as I do wish to convey my sincerest regrets at your present situation, I have received information that we must act upon this morning.  Fenris, dear, could we persuade you to help us break into your father’s office?”

 

In the warm light of the late morning, the odd group made its way unquestioned through the Magisterium.  Getting in wasn’t the difficult part.  What had Anders concerned were the bodyguards Magister Vinicius typically kept outside his office.  The memory of Krem’s fists were still fresh in his mind.  They had a tentative plan, depending on how many were there.  He just wasn’t looking forward to it.  He wove his magic to open the Fade a crack, establishing a lifeline if he needed it.  Instead of feeling more reassured, he felt more anxious.

In his nerve wracked state, Anders paid no mind to the twisting, crocked hallways.  Fenris and Hawke wore a deep hooded cloaks.  After the wedding, there wasn’t a person in the whole Imperium who wouldn’t recognize them and they didn’t want Vinicius to know they were there.    

“Just ahead, around this corner.”  Fenris came to a dead stop in the hall.  “Something is wrong.”

“Magister Tilani, Altus Pavus.  Rather odd area to find you two.”  The deep voiced seemed snake down the hallway to reach their ears. 

Hawke was too startled to react.  Fenris ducked quickly into recessed alcove while Tilani, as the ranking member of the group greeted the Archon. 

“Archon.”  She took his offered hand and pressed her lips to the ancient signet ring.  “We found young Altus Amell wondering out front and offered assistance to find Magister Vinicius’ office.”

Hawke gave a silent nod to support her story.  The Archon didn’t notice.  His full attention was on Anders.  The man’s steely eyes put Anders under an uncomfortable stare.  He felt like a bug under a thumb, moments from being turned to mush. 

The Archon was tall and thin.  The stern line to his mouth made Anders curious if after spending his life to climb so far to the top, if the man was numb to the world.

“Magister, I received your paperwork on the Apostate problem.  I desire for you and Altus Pavus to explain some of the finer points of your proposals.”

A bone chill paralyzed Anders in the sweltering spring heat.  He doubted he was the only one.  Eyes darted among the group.  Fear fueled the hesitation. 

The Archon didn’t move and never took his glare off of Anders.  “Come.” 

The command brooked no opposition, not in the middle of the Magisterium.  Dorian and Maevaris fell in step behind the powerful man.  Hawke stood torn.  Conflict ripe in his eyes.

The Archon stopped.  He turned his head slightly and spoke over his shoulder.  “Altus Amell.  Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

Not waiting for an answer, he resumed his slithering walk down the hallway.  Anders had heard jokes of the ‘sinister’ mages of Tevinter and this man embodied every stereotype he could imagine and then some. 

“Yes…your Grace.”  Hawke and Anders watched the strange scene come to a close with the group mages disappearing down into the inner core of the Magisterium. 

Once they were alone, Fenris rejoined their ranks. 

“We should go back to the hotel.  This was a mistake and you know it!”  Although they were alone, Hawke whispered harshly. 

“Do you presume to tell me what to do, _husband?_ ” 

Hawke threw his hands up in exasperation.  “What? No, I just…this whole place is fucked up.  Can’t you see that?”

“I do now.”  Fenris turned on heel and marched to the unguarded office doors.  “If I’m right.  You won’t be here much longer.”

Hawke rushed to stop Fenris from opening the door, but he was too slow.  Fenris kicked the double doors open wide, exposing a meeting between Hadriana and Vinicius.  Dragon stood by his master while Skinner and Dalish flanked the dutiful Varania, taking notes nearby. 

“Hawke.  What are you doing here… _You_!”  Vinicius raged at the sight of Anders. 

Anders briefly felt the urge to flee, but a glow of encouragement came from deep within him.  The hope he found in the Fade would carry him through this.

He was safe.  He can do this.

Glancing at Fenris, he solidified his resolve.  _I have to, for him._

“Yes.  Me.”  Anders drew his staff from his back, but was blasted to ground with Hawke and Fenris. 

Hadirana was fast.  Much quicker than he would have guessed for a pampered older woman.  She stormed over to the pile of men and pressed her hand to Fenris’ head.  The love of his life shrieked worse than a banshee as she attacked him with her magic.

Anders wanted to lash out wildly to save Fenris, but he had to stick to _his_ plan.  He mentally pulled away, letting the Fade slip in and use him…

A massive ball of mana exploded around Anders.  Cold blue flames swept across the floor, radiating from him like ripples in a pond.  The spirit had full control of his body. 

“ **NO.  NEVER AGAIN WILL YOU HARM ANOTHER AS YOU HARMED HIM**.” 

A voice, not his own descended, on Hadriana.  He watched from the back of his mind as the woman cowered to the floor, futilely squirming in an attempt to get away.  The horror pressed into her face was priceless.

**“I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.  HE WAS BUT A BOY OF EIGHT.  NO LONGER WILL YOU ESCAPE JUSTICE!”**

Hadriana found her feet and bolted for the door.  Balling his hand to a fist, Anders commanded the doors to slam shut in her face.  She spun around, her chest heaving in desperation.

“Wait!  You kill me and the hex will never be broken.  It still holds even if I die!”

Anders paused.  He turned on Fenris and his heart arched.  Blood oozed from eyes, nose, and through small cracks in his brands.  His shaky breaths spoke to the painful difficulty he was having just staying alive.  Fenris’ hate reflected in his eyes.  It took him a moment to realize Anders was waiting on him. 

Fenris did not hesitate.  His answer came in gasping, strained breaths, “Eye for an eye.”

Hadriana turned pale white.  She slumped heavily against the door as tears streamed down her face.

**“BLOOD FOR BLOOD.”**

With outstretched arms, Anders lit Hadriana’s blood with a growing boil of magic.  She screeched in blinding pain.  The smell of her body cooking from the heat was inescapable.  Revenge now had a smell for Anders. 

The spirit of justice could feel the woman on the verge of death and not wanting her to miss out on a fraction of what Fenris had endured, he pushed the punishment to its ultimate conclusion.  The magic hummed violently within Hadriana’s body, vibrating until her body shattered like an ice sculpture.  Thick spongey masses of flesh coupled with splintered bone sprinkled to the floor. 

Anders fell to his knees.  Exhausted.  Gasping for breath.  The spirit had drained all his mana and had retreated back to the Fade. 

“I suppose I was hasty when I attempted to dispose of you.”  Vinicius narrowed his eyes on Bull.  “I am curious to know your reasoning behind not killing him.” 

Fenris was slowly righting himself.  His body moved stiffly and his word came in spurts.  “That’s because.  He doesn’t.  Work for you.  He never has.” 

Vinicius sneered, “What are you talking about, boy.”

Fenris swallowed hard, mustering the strength to speak fluidly.  “You spent so much time.  Pounding.  Your Maker damned lessons into our heads.  You didn’t even recognize the handiwork of your own daughter.”

All attention flew to Verania.  She gave a small sigh, then shed all pretense of cowering innocent.  She rose confident and calm from her chair, chin held high.  “I knew I was right to expedite the timeline for my plans.  I’m curious what gave me away.”

“The cloak for one thing.  After Anders ‘disappeared’ I turned that place inside out.  I wouldn’t have missed it, which means you had to have planted it.  After father’s confession of being involved in Anders’ kidnapping, I knew Dragon wouldn’t have been so careless in cleaning out the house, which means he must have given it to you.  Then there was the conversation in the house when you spoke of Anders - ‘ragamuffin’.  An odd term for the prim teachings you received at the Circle.  Dragon used the same term frequently, therefore I assumed it came from him, from his reports to _you_.”

“That’s still a just speculation.”  Verania wasn’t one to give in easily.

“Then there’s your stutter.  Strikingly inconsistent, but certainly more pronounced when you’re in the company of those you do not want suspecting you of power grabbing.”

“I’m not power grabbing as _he_ would think.”  She tilted her head elegantly to Vinicius.  “I’m securing my future.  I made a deal with the Archon.  Remove Vinicius, annul the same-sex marriage and in return, I’ll be permitted to run the lyrium trade from Kirkwall.”

“ **NO!**   Do you have any idea how difficult it was to negotiate that?!  You fucking bitch!  How dare you!!”

Reacting instantly to the Magister’s rage, Dragon punched him into the floor.  His back cracked unnaturally when he landed.  Dalish and Verania cast a complex crushing prison spell on him.  There was no question this trick had been practiced in advance.  The prison spell plucked the Magister off the floor slowly, righting his body so Varania could look at the paralyzed mage face-to-face. 

“And you did most of the work for me.  I knew there was no way Hadriana would allow me to marry Hawke, since the union, by law, would have me outrank him, but Fenris…that’s another story.  Who do you think gave mother the idea in the first place?”

Vinicius’ eyes became saucers as all the pieces fell into place.  “The Apostate.  You wanted Fenris to betray me!  You wanted that useless Apostate to poisoned his mind.  All of this is because of you!  I will kill you, you Void-forsaken viper!”

“No.  It is I who will kill you.”  A malicious, bright red fire burned in her hand.  Anders could feel the power teasing his muscles, making him itch all over.  This spell was not intended to incapacitate.  She was serious.  “As you have taught me, dear father, there can be no half measures.  This ends tonight.  Oh, I also thought you’d be pleased to know, once I wed Hawke, our children will be Amell.  Take comfort knowing your line dies with you.”

“YOU FUCKING CUNT!”

“Verania!  Don’t!”  Fenris lit his brands to stop her spell.  Rushing to his feet, he stood between her and the weakened Magister.  “I will not have you dirty your hands for the sake of him.”

Both Anders and Fenris approached the pair.  Anders was concerned for what Fenris would do.  It seemed odd that he would think to spare this demon of a man. 

“Boy.”  Despite the Magister’s crippled state, the mage attempted to impart a tone of stern authority.  “Listen to your father.  Without me, you are nothing!  I bet –“

Anders stood by in shock as Fenris ‘touched’ him.  Understanding came slow as the act was so brutal that Anders never would have considered it.  Fenris’ body phased, allowing his fingers to press into the Magister’s body at the base of his sternum.  Carefully, Fenris put his knowledge of anatomy to use as he inched further into the shocked man, stopping with half of his forearm buried in the chest cavity. 

“ **I** bet that everyone will be better off without you.  As Verania said, it ends now.  How very unfortunate for your health that I was a star student.”

Anders knew Fenris couldn’t feel the organs, couldn’t detect the heart’s compressions, the panicked rush of blood that would distinguish it from anything else in the chest cavity.  Fenris mouth split to reveal his pristine teeth as with surgical accuracy, he placed his hand exactly where he wanted it.

Then, he let go of Anders. 

Instantly Fenris solidified.  With a swift jerking motion, the enraged elf ripped Vinicius’ heart from his chest.  It beat twice in the elf’s hand in front of the Magister’s appalled eyes.  The waste of flesh that had once been one of the most powerful mages in the Magisterium, fell dead to the floor, his blood seeping into the soft ply of the silk woven carpet.  After decades decorating the office of pure evil, the hideous carpet was finally ruined.              

Fenris stared blankly at the body until he felt the warmth of another person pressing against him.  Startled, he took a moment to react, finally reciprocating the death grip of a hug that Verania had on him.  Her body shook with small quiet sobs. 

Fenris held her tight, whispering in her ear.  “It’s over.  It’s all over.”

She didn’t take long to compose herself, soon peeling away from her brother’s hold to smile up at him.  “I’m sorry for this whole mess, but it had to be done.  There was no other way.”

“I know.  I understand.”  Contrary to his words, there was still pain in Fenris’ voice.  Anders wasn’t sure how forgiving Fenris truly was, but one thing was clear.  In the end, this had to be done. 

Hawke remained on the floor from when he’d been knocked down earlier.  He looked around the room open mouthed.  Astounded at the unfamiliar, bloody scene that had never been a part of his pampered life.  “So…what happens now?  You guys are all done with killing right?”

Verania stepped to the side to look beyond Fenris and view Hawke fully.  “Now, I see the Archon.  As I said, you’ll trade Fenris for me.  You should be so informed that Dragon is my lover – deal with it.”

Hawke raised his hands and shook his head, in surrender.  “So long as we leave this wretched country, I have no objections to anything.”  He scanned the room once more.  “Maker’s breath, I don’t think I could even share a room with you after this.”

“Good, because that won’t happen either.”

Anders suddenly remembered how they had arrived at this point, “Wait.  What of Dorian and Maevaris?”

Verania waved her hand indifferently, “They were an unexpected complication.  After Dorian found out about the marriage, Dragon suggested bringing them into the fold.  Who would look for Anders with them?”

Dragon chuckled as he crossed his arms but didn’t move from his spot.  “Varania isn’t the only sexy piece of ass walking around with a brain in her head.” 

Fenris shot a half smile at Anders, “Dragon was originally trained by the Ben-hasrath, elite spies.  I am not surprised to learn he had a greater part in this charade.” 

“To answer your question Anders, Dorian and Maevaris were eager to assist us once I promised the Archon would look at their manifesto.  They helped Anders recover and ensured that you would arrive here in time to see Mavaris betray Vinicius.  I knew things would come to a bloody conclusion and they are too optimistic by half to have let what transpired here occur.  I ensured they were diverted appropriately.” 

“Well, that explains why the Archon was glaring at me.  Alright, one last thing…why me?  Vinicius said I was your idea.”

Verania moved to stand next to Dragon, he wrapped his massive arm around her lithe frame.  Although she was taller than most elves, he was still two head higher.  “Yes.  I know all too well the loneliness that Fenris suffered.  I wanted him to be happy.  I asked Dragon to do some research and he made sure to find a compatable match.”

Fenris quirked a disbelieving brow at the two.  “But, how would you know I would choose Anders?”   

Dragon winked at them with a wicked smile, “Ben-hassrath, remember?”  He then squeezed Verania tight.  “Kadan, you ready to wrap all this up?  It’s starting to smell.” 

Anders felt a new anxious feeling pressing against his chest.  “Fenris.  What would you like to do?”

Taking a deep breath with eyes closed, Fenris savored the moment.  “I want…I want to be rid of this country.”

“We assumed so.  Unfortunately, all the research we conducted found that Templars are still hunting mages outside Tevinter.  Anders would be at risk.  It is best for you to come with Dragon and I to Kirkwall.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but you will still have ties to Tevinter.  I’m done with all this.”  Fenris reached to ‘hold’ Anders hand. 

As Anders smiled back, the tip of Fenris’ ears turned a warm red, causing Anders to cough as he mirrored the affection in his cheeks. “I’ve… _ahem,_ I’ve heard that after the Blight the Templars have fewer numbers in Fereldan.  Perhaps we could try there.  As a healer, it’s easier to hide my talents than for others and any sympathizers are more willing to turn a blind eye.”

Verania rubbed her index finger over her lips in thought, “Fereldan…that country is further south than Kirkwall.  You’ll have to cross the Waking Sea and some areas there are so mountainous, there’s snow all year round.  Have either of you ever seen snow?”

“I think I may be of some help.”  Hawke interjected into the conversation as he backed away toward the door.  “However, could we please take this somewhere else?  My stomach can only handle so much gore for one afternoon.”


	9. Together At Last (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders desperately search for a home in Fereldan with the Templars hard on their heels.

Anders had been right, there were fewer Templars in Fereldan.  Some factions had even splintered off from the Chantry, rogue units that enforced Chantry law without Chantry restrictions or ethics.  The country was considered wild territory by the surrounding nations, which meant crossing the border wasn’t easy.  Flying was out of the question.  All air marshals were Templars.  Crossing the Waking Sea wasn’t much of an option either.  It was easy to head out to sea, but there were too many patrols of Naverre, Orlais, and even Antiva navy in the ‘international waters’ who were eager to board ships in search of contraband, slaves, and Apostates.

Their only option was to travel by land through Orlais in a crazed attempt to sneak through the Frostback mountains.  Anders agreed to the plan when it was first proposed.  He had experience avoiding Templars and knew this was their best chance.  It took some convincing to get Fenris to finally agree.

From the beginning, their journey was not easy.  Unlike the last time Anders avoided the Templars, he had money but, he could hardly spend it.  The news of Vinicius’ death had won Fenris notoriety in Tevinter, but once the pair neared the border, they found he’d been tagged as a ‘person of interest’ by the Navarre authorities.  As far as anyone outside Tevinter cared, Fenris was a mage.  They were turned away from hotels frequently.  The proprietors claimed they didn’t want any problems with the Chantry and it was pointless to try to explain. 

The more distance they put between them and the Tevinter border, the easier it was to use public transit or hire a cab.  It took two weeks to travel through Naverre.  Once at the Orlesian border, they ran into the same heightened suspicious attitudes as they had near Tevinter.  The weather got colder, which actually made things a little easier as Fenris had to wear long sleeve clothes.  Hiding his brands made for fewer questions.  Often times they mingled with groups of vagabonds to learn the climate of area politics near the border gate they thought to use.  Fenris was invaluable.  As often as Anders had seen him do it, he was always in awe of how the elf could read people.  He would know when they were lying, noticed the tells of undercover agents, and more than once called a man’s bluff that saved them from losing every scrap of coin they owned.

It took a few days, but they eventually found a way across into Orlais.  Orlais was a country that welcomed money, but shunned elves.  Even the weather seemed to be against them as the winds make the cold sting through the woven sweaters they’d purchased.  Eventually they gave up trying to acquire regular lodging and immediately asked for servants’ quarters wherever they stopped.  Fenris told Anders multiple times the racism didn’t bother him, but Anders knew better.  It was another reminder of class separation, elitism and abuse of power.  The type of structured, abusive society they were running from. 

“At least it is a small comfort to know that Tevinter is not unique in that aspect.”

One night they huddled in the storage room of L’Hôtel Du Roi, a ski resort at the base of the Frostbacks.  The room was small and lined free standing metal shelves.  Linens and cleaning supplies were stacked throughout the dim space.

Anders sat and tugged his knees close to his chest.  “I’m sorry you regret this.”

“Anders, have you gone daft?”

“Each day that passes, you speak to me less and less.  I know this life isn’t easy.  I hadn’t considered the hardship it would place on you.  I’m sorry for talking you into this.”  His last words were mumbled into his pants as he pressed his face against his knees.  Anders raised his head when a balled rag hit his head. 

“Fool mage.  Can’t a man be allowed to think in peace?”

“At least you’re able to do something in peace.  You don’t sleep well.”  Anders winced the moment the words came out.  He’d not wanted to say anything about Fenris’ restless nights.

“I…had thought…No.  I have not.”  Fenris shifted uncomfortably, taking his time to gather his thoughts.  “We’ve been on the run for nine weeks.  I’ve never been this far from Tevinter.  I want to miss my family, my home, but they never really were my family.  I want to hate myself for killing – _that thing_ – but I cannot dismiss the satisfaction I recieved.  It doesn’t make sense, nothing makes sense.”

Fenris clutched his head in his hands.  Short white hair jutted out through his fingers as his palms pressed against his eyes.  Anders’ heart ached at the sight.   

“But Verania – “

“Verania is the reflection of what the Imperium does to people.  How it twists one’s soul and even makes blood magic seem ‘normal’.  She was good once – is!  She got out of there and Dragon will keep her safe.”

“She still used you.”

“True, and yet, it was the only way.  Killing _him_ without the support of the Archon would have had the Imperium on her heels.  With no family in the Imperium…I would have been sold off with the rest of the estate as punishment for her treachery.”

“Andraste’s sagging tits.”  Anders blew out a huff of disbelief.  “Then, why the nightmares?”

“I’m not a weapon.  I’m not a _thing_ dammit!!  I am a man!  I have a fucking name!”  Fenris kicked out, rattling a nearby metal shelf structure.  “He was supposed to be my father.  He was supposed to…HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN MY NAME!  He used me.  Then Verania used me, because that’s what he taught her.  It feels as if he found a new perverse way to abuse me.”

Fenris slammed his head against the wall, his eyes rolling to the top of his head only to be blinded by the flickering florescent light.  Anders’ entire being wanted to comfort him but, with the hex, it was impossible.  The act would only frustrate the both of them.  Over the course of their journey, they’d been too preoccupied with fitting in as many miles in a day as possible that they hadn’t had a chance to talk about the hex, much less figure a way around it.    

Desperate for any idea, Anders took his sweater off then held it out for Fenris, “Here.”

Fenris eyed him skeptically.  “I already have one.”

“Just…”  Anders waved the garment until Fenris took it.

“It’s still warm.”  Instantly Fenris buried his face in the soft weave and inhaled deeply.  “Fasta Vass, it’s wonderful.  Here.”

Ripping his own sweater from his body, he tossed it at Anders.  They both donned their borrowed garment.  Anders pulled the neck up over his nose, smelling the musk, the sweat – everything about Fenris that sent his senses into a frenzy.  Pinching his eyes shut, he imagined it was Fenris still wearing it, holding him tight as he wrapped his own arms around himself.  It was a painful half-comfort.  Although his mind knew it was the best measure available, his heart screamed, begging for more.  It clawed at his insides, hallowing out a gut wrenching space that he knew would never be filled again.

Peering over the edge of the neck hole, Fenris in a similar state.  He had tucked his knees inside Anders’ sweater and wrapped his arms around his head, fully enveloping himself as best he could. 

The only other thing Anders could offer where his words.  “I’m sorry for everything.  I wish you had never heard of the Imperium.  I wish you had the family you deserved.”

Fenris’ head snapped up, his eyes locking with Anders’, “I **have** the family I deserve, right here.”

When Fenris reached out for him, Anders slid on his ass, saddling up next to Fenris.  They sat together in the fading warmth of their exchanged sweaters. 

“ _Ich liebe dich, Spatzi._ ”  Anders watched the power of his words transform the man sitting next to him.  His face flushed red as the meaning of his native tongue did not escape Fenris’ keen ears. 

The elf smiled broad, his emerald eyes sparkled and his lean ears twitched high with a happiness that Anders hadn’t seen in weeks.  “I love you too, _Amatus._ ” 

“Jerk, you’re too smart for your own good.”

“And you are too handsome for yours.”  Fenris scooted closer to have their forms overlap.  His contagious smile made Anders begin to finally accept that this was their new life.  He would learn to endure the physical separation.  This wonderful man was worth it. 

The warm moment did not last long.  Without warning the door to the storage room banged open, “I have a new bulb for the…APOSTATES!”

The women went screaming from the room at the sight of them phasing.

“Shit.”

“Kaffas!”

Both men hissed a curse then leapt to their feet.  Bolting from the room, they raced for their lives.  The sounds of heavy Templar boots sounded steadily behind them.  Shouts called out over the distance, but their abilities couldn’t reach Anders.  Not yet. 

The snow outside was ankle deep, but the further they got into the hilly woods, the deeper it became.  Their only hope was to lose the pursuers in the shadows of the forest, perhaps the stronger winds and steep incline would cover their tracks behind them.  The pressed hard through the night, climbing high up the mountain face. 

They stopped when it grew quiet. 

They scrambled at the sound of crunching of snow, or an ominous whistle.

“What the fuck is that noise?!” hissed Fenris. 

Anders shook his head and answered with a snarl.  “Some Circles imprint commands on their mages.  Certain noises or gestures are meant to bring a rebellious mage to heel.”

“Disgusting.  Forward.  The border is our only hope.  The Orlesians do not have jurisdiction.”  Fenris waved his arm to encourage Anders to continue the climb.

Onward they pressed on.  The dawn came and went.  The moons came and went.  The ridge of the mountain range did not provide the relief they sought.  From the peek they could see multiple groups hiking in full gear up after them.  The relentless pursuit pushed both men to lengths they never knew their bodies were capable of.  On the Fereldan side of the mountains, they fell more than they ran.  Stumbled more than they walked.  The backpacks with all of their gear had been abandoned back in Orlais.  For three days they were on the run with only half frozen roots to chew on. 

The third day was Anders’ limit.  He collapsed hard on the ground, his face catching a rock, spilling blood all over the ground.  They had made it far enough down the mountain that the snow wasn’t as thick, but the vegetation was still sparse and most of it non-edible. 

Fenris came quickly to his side, “Anders, _Amatus_ , please, do not give up.  Not now.  I can see more green just beyond, please.”

Anders had thought the sting of the fall would re-invigorate his body.  Instead he’d barely felt it.  “Fenris.  I can’t.  I can’t.”

“ _No!_ ”  Fenris waved his hands in Anders’ head-space.  “I-I can’t carry you, I can’t drag you, please you must find a way.”

The panicked desperation made Anders force another attempt to get up.  On hands and knees, his head swam and his stomach threatened to spill out. 

“You can do this.  You did not avoid their grasp only to fall now.  GET UP, YOU FUCKING ABOMINATION!”

Fenris spit the words at Anders, spittle landed on his face and Anders felt a spark ignite within him.  His body surged, pulsed hot with mana.  The spirit of Justice had not been pleased to hear Fenris’ harsh words and cast a mindblast spell in retaliation. 

Prepared, Fenris dissipated the spell with a flare of his brands before it touched him, “About time that damn thing helped out.”

“I don’t know how much it helped.  I am less tired, but that burst of mana will attract any nearby Templars.  Hurry, we need to get away from here.”

They ran once more.  Weaving through trees and skirting around bushes, they kept on.  Then a gunshot ran out.  Both men stopped so suddenly they fell to the ground. 

“Not the brightest Apostate we’ve ever hunted.”  Stalking through the foliage, a man with a gun slung over both hands approached them.  He blipped his radio, calling for the others in his party to converge on his location.  With the spirit exhausted and having no weapons, they were doomed.  All felt lost. 

Unexpectedly, Fenris chucked a rock at the Templar then reached for Anders.  They phased just in time to have the Templar’s shots of retaliation pitter into the ground under them.  The man roared as he attempted to Smite them, but since the hex wasn’t coming from a mage, the Smite was worthless. 

Fenris leapt from the ground and decked the man before he could attempt another attack.  The Templar fell hard and Fenris drew his fist back, ready to start a full on assault.

“No.  There’s no time, the others will be in moments.  We need to keep running.”

“We need to run together.”  Fenris corrected.

Starting slowly, they occupied the same space and found a stride they could both handle.  Mumbling a cadence – _1, 2, 1, 2_ – they stayed in step as they rushed to expand the distance between them and the downed Templar.  The hunting party had not been far.  Soon, shots whizzed by them, some even through them as they continued to escape together. 

As hard as they ran, they were still weaker than their pursuers.  The shouts grew louder despite the ground they covered.  Ahead was a bridge and on the other side was a FereldanTemplar.  There was no mistaking the unique Chantry symbol on the breast of his uniform.  Anders’ primary plan was to charge him, simply phase through as they continued their escape.  Unfortunately, the man had other plans.  With a gentle wave of his hand, he knocked Anders on his ass.  The two refuges were suddenly separated and in solid form by the time the Orlesians caught up to them.  The hunting party trained their weapons on Anders and Fenris. 

The Templar with a broken nose from earlier stepped forward from the group with restraints in hand.  “Thanks friend.  We’ve been chasing these two Apostates for days.”

The blonde stranger kept his stiff stance, his expression was unreadable with the black sunglasses he wore.  He laid relaxed hands on the top of his sidearm.  “I’m sorry to hear that.  However, these men will not be going with you.”

“Excuse me Serrah?  Do you see what that one has done to me?”  Broken-Nose pointed to his face.  “We’ve scaled the damn Frostbacks for these assholes.  What gives you the right, filthy Dog Lord?!”

The Fereldan Templar reached into the neck of his shirt and withdrew two phylacteries hanging from a chain.  “Because they belong to my Circle.”

 _So that’s how he did it._   Anders wasn’t sure where the stranger had gotten his blood, but it was the only explanation as to how his Templar abilities had been effective where Broken-Nose hadn’t been.  As unnerving as it was to face someone who held such power over him, Anders quickly decided that going with one Templar was better than being dragged off by a whole group of Templars.  As for Fenris, the man had to be bluffing.  Non-mages couldn’t have phylacteries.  Anders needed to take control before Fenris or Broken-Nose did something stupid.

On his knees, Anders clasped his hands as he plead with the blonde, “Please Serrah.  We were fools.  The Circle is the only home we have.  Our curiosity ran wild, we were coming back, I swear it!”

Fenris quickly followed Anders lead and also fell to his knees to beg.  “Please Serrah, take us home.”

The Templar ignored them, keeping his gaze level at the group of Orlesians.  He shrugged his shoulders at Broken-Nose as if he were helpless.  “As you can see, I have jurisdiction.”

Broken-Nose was furious he spat a mouth full of oozing blood at Fenris.  “Fine.  Next time we see Apostates on _our_ side, you’ll find dead ones on yours.  Keep your problems away from Orlais.  Got it?!”

“Fenris.  Anders.  It’s time to go.  Say good-bye to the nice Templars.”  The blonde man turned and walked further into Fereldan territory.  Anders and Fenris rose and followed close behind.  It took all of Anders’ discipline to not look back to see if they were followed. 

After twenty minutes following a trail, the man stopped and quirked his head to one side as if listening for something.  “I don’t sense them anymore.  I think we’re safe.”  He turned to face the both of them.  Pulling out the vials once more, he unhooked one and tossed it into the woods.  The other he held out.  “Which of you is Anders?  This one is yours.”

Anders took is with shaky hands while Fenris demanded answers.  “Who are you?  How do you know who we are!?”

“I’ve been looking for you two for days actually.  Verania became concerned when she found out you hadn’t arrived yet.  I received your phylactery through secured overnight mail then set out to find you.  Whatever spell you used earlier was like a beacon in the fog.”

“Wait, you’re Cullen?  Hawke didn’t say anything about you being a Templar!”  Fenris placed himself between Anders and Cullen protectively.

“I was one.  Then the Blight happened.  When Solana left the Circle to join the Wardens’ fight, I left with her.”  Cullen chuckled to himself.  “Knight-Commander Gregoir was furious.”

Anders was surprised to hear the Templar let one of their own go, even for a Blight.  “Really?  They let you leave just like that?”

“No.  I ran away like an errant child.”  He waved his hand as if gesturing toward a dream.  “It was a difficult path to follow, but I have no regrets.” 

They continued to walk along the wooded path, bypassing a main road to go deeper into the woods.  With no clear destination in sight, Anders was reminded that he wasn’t at full health.  “Don’t you have a ride or something?”

Cullen laughed.  “No, no.  I get along better on my feet.”  He turned over his shoulder and tilted his sunglasses up to reveal a gash that cut down from above his right eye clean through to his lip.  His left eye was clouded over like a stormy day.  “I don’t think you’d trust me to drive anyway.”

Hawke had mentioned that Cullen fought in the Fifth Blight, but never mentioned any lasting injuries that Anders could remember.  “Maker’s breath, did the Archdemon do that?”

Cullen righted his glasses and resumed his pace.  “No.  The Templars did.  They don’t take too kindly to deserters, regardless of the reasons.”

Fenris snorted, still untrusting, “Did they do it because you left for the Blight, or for a woman?”

Without looking, Cullen tossed Fenris’ question back at him, “I don’t know.  Did you leave Tevinter for your freedom, or for a man?”

Anders tried to stifle a chuckle, but Fenris had definitely heard him.  “Point taken.  Although I may change my mind.”

Anders laughed aloud at the tease.  He immediately felt comfortable with Cullen.  He seemed genuine and Hawke proved to be many things, but he wasn’t a liar.  However, his descriptions of people could use improvement.

They stopped at a moistest campsite in a clearing next to a stream.  Cullen gave them each tasks which led to a warm fire and a hot stew. 

“If you are blind, how do you accomplish all this?  How would you have taken on the Orlesians?”  Fenris resumed his probing once he had a full belly.

“I’m not entirely blind.  I can make out shapes, lightness, darkness.  Plus, I’ve been this way for years, so I have grown accustomed to compensating.  I hardly think on it anymore.” 

“Did you get them back for what they did?”  Anders couldn’t help but wonder how that cycle would have turned out.  He’d never heard of Templars turning on their own like that.

“No.  It’s not necessary and I suppose in some way I feel that I deserve it.  Shortly after I left the Circle it was overrun with Demons.  Solana sees it as fate sparing me, my former brothers see it as me leaving them at the mercy of abominations.”  Cullen shook his head and set his dishes down.  “No good will come of thinking on what we can’t change.  Anders, Hawke said you were a healer.  There are many in Haven that will be glad for your arrival.  With the Blight and Civil War tearing the country apart, most mages have spent their time learning battle skills.  There are few Spirit healers to be had.”

The rest of the evening was spent discussing Haven and the needs of the people forgotten in the tumultuous wake of constant war.  Haven had started out as a retreat for mages looking for a life outside the Circle.  Over time it grew to include orphans, cripples, and the destitute who only sought to make a living away from the politics and battlefields.  Fenris and Anders were thoroughly relieved when Cullen called for Solana to come pick them up.  Even with a meal, they were still bone tired and knowing they were safe, the only thing their bodies craved was rest. 

 

Speaking with Solana Amell, Hawke’s cousin, Anders discovered that there was a quiet deal with the Queen – so long as Haven didn’t add to her problems, they wouldn’t be persecuted by the Crown nor hunted by the Chantry.  From the first day in Haven, Anders felt at home.  The modge-podge mix of people of all ages and backgrounds was familiar to him.  It was the size that felt daunting.  He’d grown accustomed to groups of no more than twenty during his time growing up on the run.  This was a veritable town with a few hundred. 

Anders found his place as a healer.  Fenris began by aided him, but eventually wound up spending most of his time with Solana and Cullen.  Fenris had the disposition of a leader and fell into that role easily in the village.  He had a tactical mind and was extremely helpful in negotiations and arbitration among the villagers.  Given Fereldan’s recent history, few had received an education and none had reached the level Fenris had.  The children referred to him as ‘the wise old elf’ based off his hair which made Fenris grumble, yet he never corrected them.  Anders would catch his sour mood at times and would blow him a kiss.  A ridiculous adolescent gesture according to the elf, but the grouch still returned each one Anders sent. 

This became their life.  Just like Cullen, they learned to compensate for the hex.  For months they lived and worked in Haven.  They shared a two room cottage near Anders and Fenris grew into this new life, this now way of being together.    Like the blown kisses, they found other ways to be intimate and continued to exchange their clothing.  A shirt would be worn for a day by one, then a day by the other before being washed.  They found fun in trying new methods, which was how Anders found that if Fenris could hit a giggling fit hard enough, he’d burst into joyful tears.  Those were the moments that Anders treasured above all.  Thinking back on the pain and suffering it took to get here – it was worth it to see Fenris fall into such happiness with abandon.  They were fortunate to be here.

A year passed and as on many other occasions, Anders had invited Solana and Cullen for dinner.  He’d made most of the meal, but Fenris arrived first with the sweet breads from the baker. 

“Good day?”

Fenris shook off a few stubborn flakes of snow from his hair.  “It was fine.  I have no need to work tomorrow.” 

Returning his lover’s grin, Anders thought on his own schedule.  “I think I can move some things around.  What would you like to do, _Spatzi_?”

“Fenris!  Anders!  Look what came for you!”  Solana and Cullen let themselves into the home.  Cullen placed a large package on the table.

Fenris studied the postage, “It has been through multiple hands.  Likely, it was delivered so to avoid being intercepted or traced.  Whatever it is, it’s important.”

“Well it’s addressed to you, so…go on, open it!”  Solana was bouncing on her heels.  It was rare to have something arrive of a personal nature, especially for one of them.  Few people in Haven kept contact with the outside world.

Anders grew frustrated at how Fenris delicately peeled at the tape of the brown paper wrapping.  “ _Spatzi_ , there are too many markings on that paper to re-use it for anything, just tear into it!”

The two men had entirely different opinions as to what ‘tear into’ meant.  Fenris still took his time which further heightened Anders’ excitement.  The first thing he noticed inside the slowly opened package was that it was large.  A large garment.  A large garment that was dark in color with feathers.

“My cloak!”  Anders hands dove into the box, shoving aside the protective Styrofoam peanuts then sent them fluttering through the air as he pulled the cloak out.  “Oh, Fenris.  The trip out here would have been so much easier if I had had this.  It dampens my mana field which makes it almost impossible for Templars to detect I’m a mage.”

Muscle memory set the prized cloak on his shoulders.

“You weren’t kidding.”  Cullen craned his head to get a closer look with his bad eye.  “It seems as if the room became darker the second you put that on.”

“There’s a note at the bottom.”  Fenris retrieved a stack of papers and began to skim over the main points.  “It’s from Verania.  She sends her apologies for holding on to it for so long – hope you will understand – experiments were necessary - Dorian sends his notes – might be helpful…”  Fenris flipped through the pages.  “I have no idea what any of this is talking about.  Dorian did something to your cloak.  You may want to take it off and read his notes just to be safe.” 

“Really?  Let me see.”  Anders reached for the notes, taking care to not touch Fenris or they’d drop to the table.  Alas, his caution was wasted the moment he stepped on the Styrofoam coated floor.  He slipped forward and bumped against the table.  His hand crashed into Fenris’.

Solana’s hands flew up to her mouth as she gasped, wide-eyed. 

Cullen scanned the room, his hand ready on his sidearm.  “What happened?  What’s going on?”

Cullen’s questions went unanswered.  Anders felt his heart stop.  In that moment the whole world stopped.  His index finger pressed against Fenris’ skin and slowly traced a lyrium line from the tip of the finger up his arm.  He abandoned the task at the shoulder.  He raised his hand, stopping shy of Fenris’ jaw. 

“Well.  Do not be a pussy.  Do it.”  Fenris tried to be commanding, but he croaked as he spoke, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him. 

Anders reached for Fenris’ cheek to see if the nightmare was indeed over.  Anders hand came into contact with warm, solid flesh and bone. 

“ _Amatus._ ”

“ _Spatzi._ ”

Anders and Fenris were instantly in each other’s arms, kissing fiercely.  The thought of savoring the moment was stoutly shoved out of his mind.  If this didn’t last, he wasn’t going to waste it.  Even with their heated gasps and moans, Anders could hear Solana cooing over the moment.

“Oh Sweet Maker, I’m so happy.  I can’t stop crying I’m so happy – oh – OH!”

Fenris began to undress himself in a frenzy.  His lips continued to dance with Anders, but he was down to his smalls by the time Solana snapped at Cullen. 

“C’mon we need to go.”

“Why are we going?  I’m still hungry.  Wait, is someone kissing?”

“Yes.  I’ll explain at the house, we can’t – _gah!_ ”  Fenris’ smalls were thrown across the room.  “OUT!  Now!”

“Can’t we take something with us?”

“No Cullen!  Just go!”  Anders watched the lithe woman shove her confused husband out the door. 

In the privacy of their home, Fenris pushed on Anders shoulders having the mage sink to the floor, laying within the expanse of his cloak.  He arched his back with a loud, thick moan when Fenris pulled his breeches off his hips, the elf’s mouth finding and sucking on Anders’ neglected cock. 

“Andraste’s Flaming Sword!  I’m not going to last.”

“Neither will I.”  Fenris countered.  A swift jerking motion divested Anders of his breeches completely and Fenris nestled himself between the mage’s legs.  He held both their erections in hand, sloppily stroking them.  They were panting and groaning at the long forgotten sensation.  Masturbation only got a man so far and to finally feel the lust of another man was sinful. 

This was bliss.  The heat, the weight, the soft skin was unbearable.  Neither of them took long.  They didn’t seek to.  It was a hurried release they greedily snagged in the event fate wished to snatch this new ‘cure’ away from them.  At nearly the same time, they came, spilling over Fenris’ hand and over on Anders’ stomach.    

Both of them spent, Fenris fell down on top of Anders, heedless of the mess.  He winced when his knees banged on the floor. 

“Bed?”  Anders offered, and at Fenris’ nod, he worked his way to his feet, lending Anders a hand to get up on his feet.  They held hands into the bedroom, neither wanted to let go. 

“You need to let go, I have to get undressed.”

“I will not.”  Despite his claim, Fenris sat at the edge of the bed with this hands curled around Anders thighs while he laid wet suckling kisses over Anders’ hips. 

The action came to an abrupt end when Anders removed his cloak to get this shirt off.  Each man held his breath when Anders donned the cloak once fully nude, praying to the Maker the magic still held.  Fenris tested the magic by poking Anders with this index finger.  Hitting solid flesh, they were back in each other’s arms with renewed enthusiasm.  With their base need satisfied, they became a tangled mess of limbs.  They laid together, pressing, sucking, smelling – doing everything they had desired over the course of a year came to life with vibrant ferocity. 

Unlike the sweaters, the heat from Fenris’ body didn’t fade.  It grew.  The smell of his musk didn’t mingle and become lost with other scents.  Anders could taste it in the man’s sweat.  Taut skin over muscle.  Soft cheeks.  Velvety cock.  Plump, rounded ass.  Every bit of it was all the more glorious because it was Fenris.  His love.  It was more than he could have hoped for, a dream come true.

“Maker’s breath, you’re intoxicating.”  Anders puffed the words over the dew of sweat on Fenris’ body.  He’d lost track of where he was on the elf.  It didn’t matter.  He’d suck on the heel of his foot all night if it meant more of this. 

Fenris squirmed within his arms, his back arcing a little, “Pretty words.  Will you still utter them as I wreck your pretty little hole?”  Anders yelped when Fenris slapped his ass harshly.  “On your knees, over here.”

Eager to obey, Anders positioned himself as instructed, his feet dangled over the edge as Fenris pushed the cloak over his hips.  Anders set his head on his crossed arms and watched Fenris work through the gap between his legs.  His own seeping arousal limited his view, but soon, that didn’t matter.  Nimble, oil slicked fingers massaged their way from his hips, around to the crease of his ass.  Gliding down the natural trial, they landed over his entrance.  Anders cried out as they played, prodded, and swirled. 

“Enjoy how I touch you?”  Fenris asked the question, but it was more of a statement of the obvious.

The tips of the elf’s fingers ghosted over Anders’ sac, his length, a frightening reminder of the Hell they’d lived for too long.  “Don’t tease me like that.”

Another slap and Anders bit his cheek.  Fenris firmly grabbed Anders dangling coin purse roughly, making Anders suck in a worried breath.  “This is mine.  I will do with it as I please.”

“Yes, please.  Use me.” 

A warm tongue passed over Anders’ sensitive buttocks.  “I like how your fair skin shows off my handiwork.”  A fingernail traced the outline of a hand.  “I like marking you.”

“More.”

“Hmm, not here, I think.”  Fenris left the reddened flesh alone then moved to have his face square over Anders’ perineum.  “Perhaps here.”

“Careful, it’s… _Oh sweet holy Maker, fucking Andraste, shit, fuck, fuck **fuck!**_ ”  Anders’ entire body was wracked with intense pleasure as Fenris made good on his word.  He sucked hard on that magic cord of flesh, pumping Anders’ cock at the same time.  The exaggerated, slow strokes intentionally pusheed back on Anders’ sac to have his balls press against the elf’s face.  The way his nose pressed into Anders’ ass cheek showed how hard Fenris was working to make his mark, and how badly he wanted torture his lover. 

Then, a finger was added.  Anders couldn’t watch anymore.  He buried his face in the rumpled sheets, screaming as loud as he could.  The muffled cries met with a pool of drool beneath his lips.  He struggled to breathe.  He struggled to know what to do.  His body was no longer his own.  Fenris worked him as easily as a puppet.  There was nothing to do but give in. 

“Yes, please, yes.”

“You want more?  Then work for it.”  Anders’ felt his breath catch in his lungs the second he felt Fenris’ cockshead press against his tight hole.  Fenris was gentle and slow, paying attention to the way Anders reacted.  Neither wanted to ruin their fun by being too hasty.  Once seated balls deep, Fenris tested Anders with a tender pump of his hips.  “That good?”

The cloak’s feathers bunched around Anders’ face and he was sweating like a sinner at the feet of the Maker.  The wet smack of flesh meeting flesh almost had him spilling all that was left of him on the bed.  Anders’ balled fists pressed against the sides of his face as he tried to focus on a way to make it last.  The sting of a hard slap of the hand on his tender bum pulled him back to the moment.

“I asked a question mage.”

“Maker yes, _yes_.”  His pleas came out as strained whimpers.  He knew he sounded pathetic and weak, but he didn’t give a single fuck.  He wanted this to last all night, wanted to do anything to please his lover.

“Better.  Now milk me.  Show me how bad you want my cum.”

Anders pushed his ass firmly against his lover, then squeezed tight as he drew back, his walls cinching tight around Fenris’ length.  A low, thick moan fell from Fenris.  Finally, it was _his_ turn to inflict torture for once.  Anders chose a painstakingly slow pace as he settled into the easy rhythm of squeeze, draw, relax, impale.  He wanted to coax the man to the brink, draw him close to the edge before setting his soul on fire. 

Fenris remained standing at the edge of the bed, panting open mouthed as his chest struggled to keep pace with his racing heart.  “Harder, _Amatus_.  I might think you do not want it enough.”

Anders withdrew then flopped on his back with a wicked grin, “I can’t.”

“Fool.  You cannot use that excuse any longer.  Now I _can_ drag you around.”  Fenris snagged Anders by the knees to pull him back into a fuckable position once more. 

Anders’ chuckle died quickly when Fenris settled into him again, this time taking full command.  He pounded into the blonde relentlessly.  His arms were hooked under each leg, forcing Anders to take all of him.  Anders’ spine sparked with pleasure at each thrust.  Clutching the sheets, he arched his back to meet Fenris’ fury until the elf burst within him.  Anders squeezed to catch the feeling of the subtle pulsing of Fenris’ cock.  The delicate nerves in his ass craved the sensation that made his toes curl.  Anders pressed his head deep into the mattress, eyes screwed shut, slack jawed as he listened to Fenris gasping for air – nothing could be better than this moment.

Anders’ stomach lurched a bit with morning when Fenris separated them.  He forgave the man instantly when he felt a warm welcoming mouth surround his prick, giving it one thick suck.

“Eyes on me, _Amatus._ ”

Wedging his elbows behind him, Anders propped up enough to see his erection disappear into Fenris’ mouth.  A tongue lapped and swirled inside the closed mouth that made his skin break out in goosebumps.    

Anders was barely coherent when he spoke, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He didn’t.  The feather soft white hair bobbed joyously over the Anders’ crotch.  His abs tightened and a tremor ran though his legs.  Fenris knew the signs and took advantage of them.  He buried Anders deep in this throat then pressed a finger into the mage’s ass, swiping delectably over Anders’ prostate.  Anders spurt full force in Fenris’ mouth, making the poor man choke, but Fenris still tried to salvage the moment by pumping the last bit over his lips with a greedy smile. 

“ _Oh_ Holy Maker, that was amazing.”

Fenris gave an irritable sniff.  “I am out of practice.  We need to do this more often.”

“The notes, papers, them, give me.”

Anders let his mind continue to drift on the high of his orgasm.  When Fenris returned, he handed over the papers from the box and used a wet rag to tend to the mess they’d made all over Anders.  He skimmed the papers, focusing on the notes that Dorian jotted down.

“Dorian did this.  It took him all this time to figure it out, but he did it.”

Fenris crawled into bed and lay his head on Anders’ shoulder.  “How?”

“Verania sensed the magic damping properties of my cloak and held onto it.  Turns out her hunch was right.  The hex focuses on my magical ability, with it muted adequately, the hex is powerless.”

“So, you’ll always have to wear this when we have sex?”  Fenris reached across Anders’ chest to play with some of the feathers.

“No.  With the notes Dorian sent, I can recreate the same effect in any set of clothing that I want.  No more sharing clothes, no more blowing kisses.  We can be normal again.”

Fenris’ head perked up to gaze lovingly at Anders.  “I do not relish the thought of becoming normal.  I want to be us.  That has come to mean more to me than I could have imagined.  Please, do not ask me to stop saying ‘I love you’.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  Anders blew Fenris a kiss, which gave the elf a glorious blush.  Anders then followed up with a hungry kiss, just to be sure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments. I hope you enjoyed this fun fic.
> 
>  


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